Purple Glow Stare-down

Night fell over Quito, but who needs sleep when there's an electric violet glow humming in the balcony corner? I slipped down from the iron rail and stalked straight over to that little cylindrical bug zapper sitting on the ceramic tiles. It gave off this sick, neon-violet glare that bathed the dusty floorboards in pure style. A dead moth was clinging to the safety cage. Naturally, I leaned right against the plastic frame with one boot braced against a discarded coil of garden twine, grinning right into the grid. The electric snap made me jump a half-inch—totally vicious little toy. I love it.