Dusk. The man is relaxing in his backyard, drink in hand. A mosquito lands on his arm piercing his skin with it’s proboscis sucking his blood, its small body beginning to swell. The man attempts to swat and kill the mosquito but it is able to fly away in time. The woman walks the streets of her neighborhood late into the night, the moon and a few stars lighting her way. A mosquito, already engorged with blood, is felt at her neck. She starts to kill it, stops in mid motion, letting it feed.