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Summary
2003 was the year of the mosquito. You couldn’t leave a cup of water out for a day. Black clouds threatened the windows, stalked the hallways. In a week, Mello had seen more elbows, knees, shoulder, and stomach, than he ever had in his life.
Italy. A “place of rest.” A “holiday.”
“Stop scratching.”
“Sorry,” said Matt.
“Stop it. You’re bleeding.”
Life swelled, itched. The summer of great torment.
