Peter Schmader, Darwin Gets His Props, digital photograph, 2008






Scopes

Charles walked with the green light of the parking lot, Slurpee-fisted, great discovery in the nut of his head. But Emma, he said, my hands, they're so chapped and broke. It was true, the things he'd hold, chipped, stained in laboratory blue. She only shrugged, fading across her shoulder, all the boys on her guitar.