The itch is the tingle under your skin that makes you want to scratch.
The itch is the niggling doubt in your mind that you left a burner on, just as you leave for your two-week vacation.
The itch is the feeling when you make eye contact with a stranger in the street, and they hold it for just a little too long.
The itch is the sensation when you are searching for your keys and realize that you’ve never owned a car.
The itch is the uneasiness in your gut when you see the same man outside reading a newspaper that just passed you in the lobby.
The itch is the panic you feel in the morning, when you find the person in bed next to you is the same, but you are somehow different.
The itch is the terror in the last bubble of air that escapes from your scream, as the chains pull you down to the bottom.
The itch is the fear that there are things more frightening than those we imagine: those that really do exist.
I am the itch, and these are my stories. I hope you enjoy them.