Melissa Johnson describes the jungle (and its bugs) in sticky, itchy detail. But don’t worry, you will be laughing as your skin crawls—her prose is also full of wit and honesty.
My eyes widen and find Angela’s with the same question. Do they know about the wedding? But no. Today is Tent Dawg’s birthday, and they wanted to surprise us. The air dissolves into toasts and merriment while the red sun sinks below the horizon. I gorge my body with sugar and caramel-vanilla rum, offering a small blood sacrifice to the mosquitoes who float like spirits above the feast.
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