Katydids done, birds haven't started; dead silence. An hour before dawn, when blackest imagining and worst-case scenarios entertain the racing insomniac mind, I lie, aware enough to notice the hours chime by too fast. I hear Cheryl breathe; currents tickle my back. Humans breathe each other's air--a most intimate, continuous exchange--yet can't sense how we alter atmospheric gas concentrations. But mosquitoes can.
by Ray Scanlon of Rehoboth
