A Single Second

                                           A Single Second

           Scientists, alone on their isolating islands of intellect, blunder alone through the blinding fog of sex, affection, and acceptance.
         On Monday, December 27, 2015, Dr. Jon DeLeon leapt into this haze for his
        Alora.
        The 39 year old ex-university scientist let the smartphone’s display pull him into her picture, the one where her dark hair flowed like a river of redemption. He closed his eyes, smiling as she roamed through him, seeking out his dark passages. Lighting them. Cleansing them.
         Forgiving him.
        Two months after a six year marriage crashed, he and Alora were still talking, still laughing, still teasing.
         And here she was.
         Calling him.
         Their connection strengthening, their relationship flowing into new, deeper waters.
         Tapping “Accept,” he disconnected the reporter who’d been spewing empty queries about Jon’s work into his ear like a hose sprays mist over baking summer pavement, the tiny question-droplets evaporating before they hit the hot surface.
           “Alora,” he said, his hands gripping the old droid tightly as if, all at once he was holding her the way that she loved. Making her gasp, followed by that delicious double-inhale. “My audience is out there for me, but they can wait.”
           Her voice with its sweet hope landed, then glided up the abandoned road to the heart of the award winning scientist.
          “Well, guess what, Dr. DeLeon?” she asked, laughing into his ear. “Aaron and I were engaged today. And do you–”
          “I–”
            “–know what else? I’m having his baby. We are–”
          The world went white hot.
           At once, the Professional in Jon took control. That’s my voice speaking, he thought. Congratulating my ex-wife. Why no, my voice said, sounding more and more distant, I had no idea you were close to anyone when is the date yes congratulations great news ok gottagobye.
            Jon disconnected the call just as the swell of feelings upended him, knocking him up and off his mental feet. His mind, spinning both left and right at once, disoriented and subdued him, making him into an easy target.
            No time, the thin scientist thought as he dropped down onto the cold floor, jamming his back against the dirty wall of the dim church hallway. Head up, sandy brown hair drenched with sweat, he whimpered, “Jesu−” 
           The second emotional blast wave slammed home.
            Paroxysms of emotional pain surged. Eyes saw nothing. Jon’s left ring and small fingers, instantly plugged into an electric-emotional circuit, went numb, the paralyzing voltage flying through them, severing the scientist from himself.
            Adrift, the nationally recognized scientist writhed in emotional agony.
             The disintegration took a single second.