Pudica stretched her limbs with her eyes closed. She simpered, jiggling her spine to relish the mattress underneath her. She appreciated every element. But when she opened her eyes, the ceiling became rotten wood, and she was back in the hammock. A cockroach fell on her forearm, prompting her to shake and flutter.
The insect fled the vicinity, leaving her to fight the air. The heat was worse than the mosquito bites she discovered behind her neck. She scratched violently. The lacerations she made with her nails burned. She stopped fighting and her knees plummeted to the dirty floor.
Sweat and tears covered her pores, realizing hugging her family had all been a dream. An image of sanity wasn’t something she cared about anymore.
Let everybody know Pudica didn’t exist, and this
