Every morning I wake up with more bites than the day before. "It's too early for mosquitoes," Joe says.
Too early, too late. The bites swell and multiply. My skin is not being reasonable.
"Juju bites," I say to Joe.
Pay attention to me, says the one between my toes. No, me! says the one on my forearm. I can't concentrate on anything.
I know it's Juju because I never felt the sting. You can't see the Juju when it gets you. Like gnats before dusk.
The bumps welt up angry. There is no salve to quell the itch. It reminds me and reminds me - once you've got the bad Juju, it makes it worse to ignore it, or scratch it.