The mosquitos are coming, the mosquitos are coming...

The sheet that I inherited from my predecessor is pale purple and matches the handpainted tropical fan from Thailand that was hung in my bedroom.  This morning, the sheet is spotted with new little crimson marks from the battle I waged last night.  It is not my blood, but traces of previous victims that I have squashed into the fibers.  Maybe it is my colleague's blood.  Where my sheets are marked, she has blotchy trails of mosquito bites across her cheeks and neck.  She must be delicious.  But, there is are dangerous swarms of the nasties in our neighborhood these evenings, in anticipation of the cooler (and maybe wetter) season to come.  So... we are redoubling our forces.  We've stockpiled the mosquito nets from the unoccupied apartments and have scheduled screening hung between the cement walls of our last floor landing.  This is as much for our guards, Yonis and Aden, who live and sleep in the open air of the hallway, as for our own well-being.