Aurora Magazine 2019

coordinator. “Three donations today, but one is an unclaimed body with no photograph of the deceased,” I said, nervously. All bodies require a photograph to be able to check the accuracy of a facial recon - struction, but I didn’t want him to be recognized. “Hmmm,” said Pat. He shrugged and said, “I guess we’ll wing it on this one. Donations have been down as the medical schools compete with us for bodies. Maybe this guy can end up in a cold case story.” I began to sweat. “Let’s get them placed before the rain hits,” I said. “What scenario do we need?” We trek out to the field with each body, carefully arranging a different crime scene. I am relieved when we chose an open-air situation where decomposition could go quickly. The June heat had both Todd and I perspiring, our sweat mingling with the fluids forming on the corpses. The insects begin to land on both the living and the dead. My former lover looks so defenseless lying on the ground. As we curled his body into a fetal position, a coil of pity began to unfurl. I straightened my back and remind - ed myself this could have easily been me, shot through the face. Time to stop with the sympathy. Second chances are what almost got me killed. We placed the cage over the body to prevent the birds from reaching him and destroying important insect development data. Birds of prey like crows and ravens could strip the flesh from the bones within a few days and the studies we are doing required a year of observation. I am glad the birds will not eat him. I did not want to look out the window and wonder which bird has his DNA incorporated into their flesh. I did not want any part of him to fly free. Let him remain pinned to the ground, trapped in his space the way he trapped me. And yet, I am cornered, forced to watch the slow deterioration over the next year and document the data. There will be photographs, collection of insect eggs and larvae, soil samples and a record of the daily weather with its 29