I was Jonathan's moon. circling around him, unable to avert my gaze.

he's leaning against the counter in the department's small kitchenette when I enter. my stomach convulses as if I was gut punched and my whole body shrinks in fear, begging to escape, but his gaze rests on me and I know I'm trapped.

the first time I touched him was through nitrile gloves. blue on skin.
I was in the middle of an explanation about ethidium bromide when he reached out and absently placed his hand on mine. I stared at his fingers, at the folds of the flexible material wrapping them, holding him at bay, providing me protection.
sometimes it feels like he was the most dangerous intercalating agent in the world. inserting himself into my genetic makeup. changing me from within until I'm barely recognizable to myself. what will I be when he leaves?

she opens the door for us. blue eyes, light skin. small wrinkles on the sides of the mouth and eyes. hair dyed blonde, long and wavy. firm breasts and a slim waist. she's everything I could never be for him.
we enter the apartment in silence. I'm still holding the straps of the bag tightly when he motions for me to place it on the kitchen island.
I unfold the small package. three vials, almost at room temperature.

I could have made a mistake in the dosage. I could have mixed up the vials by accident.
I fill the disposable syringe with the clear liquid, making sure there are no air bubbles.
she doesn't look at me as the needle penetrates her skin. as I inject her with the contents of the syringe.

I'm lying on the floor in the lab with my knees close to my chest, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.
my mind plays the same scene over and over again. he exits the elevator, approaches the door with the wood-like paneling. turns the key in the lock. his hand rests on the handle.
I don't know what he will find there.

my legs are wrapped around his as we lie spread out on the floor. my head rests on his arm. in the background, fragments of words can be discerned through the static noise emanating from the transistor radio that rests within reach of our hands.
we could have been together, Jonathan. it could have been us.

I close my eyes. when I open them the blue sky above me is cloudless. my skin tingles from the grass stinging me. slowly squirming beneath me. I feel the movement in every part of my body.
the June sun envelops my skin. penetrates it. leaving marks in every cell. microscopic protein machines come into play. clinging to the coiled double strand. exposing the damaged segments. unraveling them. fixing them. disconnecting.
non-stop movement. a futile war against time. I close my eyes again.