I woke up feeling like something was biŧing my upper back.

For a moment, the room felt tight with tension as we stared at the shriveled object on the bed, each guess making it worse—bug, parasite, something far stranger. The thought it had been there all night was enough to make my skin crawl.

Later, after closer inspection, the truth was almost laughable: just a dried piece of cooked meat, likely chicken. No threat at all—just fear filling in the unknown. And somehow, that uncertainty lingered longer than any real danger would.