You’ve Got Ringworm
In the morning I take 4-month-old Jane for a walk. She falls asleep, and I leave her stroller outside the door of the little Seventh-day Adventist groceries while I go inside for a newspaper. I notice Tia, our landlady, standing near a little table at the front of the store, looking through a stack of envelopes. (The market doubles as the village’s mail depot.) We chat for a bit, and then I show her a recently developed sore on my leg. It started off as a crusty, oozing scab, but is now a quarter-size patch, angry red, surrounded by a darker ring. I ask her if she’s ever seen anything like it.
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