I stayed a few nights at my friend’s old apartment and noticed small, clustered bumps appearing on my skin where it pressed against the bed. At first, I thought it was nothing, but the pattern grew with each night, focused along shoulders, back, and thighs. It wasn’t random—it felt like a warning from the apartment itself.
I checked my habits: no new soaps, detergents, or environments. The only change was the room. I imagined bed bugs, fleas, dust mites, or mold, hidden in decades of old mattresses, carpets, and curtains. The bites weren’t just physical—they carried the anxiety of being in an unclean, lived-in space that wasn’t mine.
On the third morning, I stripped the sheets, inspected the bed, and found no obvious culprit—but my body had already sent the message. I packed my things, washed everything on the hottest setting, and showered long and hot to purge the irritation. Over days, the bumps faded, but the lesson remained: your skin reacts for a reason. Unfamiliar spaces carry invisible histories, and sometimes, your body senses what your eyes cannot. Some beds are better left unslept in.