My hands trembled as I poured my third cup of coffee, spilling some onto the counter. I got maybe three hours of sleep after waking up in a pool of sweat and to the annoying sound of my sister’s dog whining all night. I thought it was just the usual perimenopause hormones, but turns out the air conditioner broke sometime before dawn.
It’s the middle of August and sweat is sliding down my temples while I stare at the computer screen, trying to finish the presentation for my 9 a.m. sales meeting. There’s no way I’m finishing this in time.
I open up my to-do list when I hear a faint buzzing zip past my ear. Probably just a fly. I keep typing: finish presentation, lifting class at 7, weed the garden, presentation at 9, write 2,000 words for my book, walk the dog, bake and decorate cookies for the work party, cookies I didn’t want to do but said yes to anyways…
Before I realize it, I’m scratching my hand so hard it stings. A dime-sized bump has already formed. Great, a mosquito bite. I grab the hydrocortisone cream and as I’m twisting the cap off, two more mosquitoes land right on my hand. I smack them mid-bite. Droplets of blood smear across my fingers.
I close the windows, but as I’m shutting the one above the kitchen sink, five or six more land but this time on my arms. I smack them fast, ignoring the sting from each hit. Blood streaks my forearms, tiny red bumps multiplying by the second.
The buzzing gets louder.
By the time I reach the dining room, I can hear it everywhere. Behind me, above me. Before I can close the next window, ten, maybe fifteen mosquitoes swarm my stomach. I can’t even count them. I keep smacking, smashing them mid-bite. More blood. More bumps. It spreads across my chest and stomach, and the pain is unbearable.
The buzzing now surrounds me completely. Louder with each step into the living room as I race to close the last window.
I’m three feet away from the window when I see it, a pulsing black cloud of mosquitoes. The frantic, high-pitched buzz of a million wings circles me and then they hurl themselves forward.
I swat wildly, blood splattering across my legs and arms. No matter how hard I hit, I can’t kill them all. A living blanket of wings and legs wraps around me as I fall to the floor.
The buzzing fills my ears until there’s nothing else. I stop fighting and let them take what’s left.