And because it had been pressed against my back while I was sleeping, my imagination had already begun constructing the worst possible explanation.

I called for help.

Within minutes, what had started as a private moment of nighttime confusion became a full family investigation. One by one, my family members appeared, some still rubbing their eyes and others looking thoroughly annoyed at being dragged out of bed.

I explained what had happened as carefully as I could.

Something had been biting or pressing against my skin. I had felt it while sleeping. I had searched the bed, and now I had this strange object that nobody could immediately identify.

Naturally, everyone wanted to see it.

The little brown object passed from one person to another. Each family member examined it from a different angle, turning it under the light and attempting to make sense of its shape.

One person wondered whether it might be part of an insect. Another thought it looked like a dried fragment of something organic. Someone else suggested taking a closer photograph to see whether the enlarged image would reveal details that were difficult to see with the naked eye.

So we took a picture.

We zoomed in, studied the uneven edges, and stared at the tiny object as though we were investigating a mysterious discovery in a laboratory.

The photograph didn't immediately solve anything.

If anything, enlarging the image made the object look even stranger. Details that had seemed insignificant at first became more noticeable, and everyone began offering new theories.

By then, sleep had become the last thing on anyone's mind.

My family was gathered around a tiny object that had apparently invaded my bed, and we were all trying to determine whether it was something harmless or something that deserved considerably more concern.

I was still tense, too. Even though the light was on and the object was no longer against my skin, I couldn't completely shake the memory of that first sensation.