The back of the faded jade Mercedes was a breviary of skepticism. 240D in the left margin above the tail-light and DIE right-margined obviously missing SEL but for some reason the absence seemed to fit. Centered between those two was the three-pronged star logo, which represents the Benz dominance of land, sea, and air, but one prong was only half-there; sustained dominance is always a fragile thing. Snuggled up all nice and tight on either side of the CO license place were two ichthus fish (the kind Jesus caught) but one had the word DARWIN inside it with little evolving feet underneath and the other had the word ALIEN inside it, this one with no traces of locomotion at all. But the pièces de résistance had to be two bumper stickers, logically on the bumper, the first barely readable like chipped paint on an eave – RESIST AUTHORITY – and the second as fresh as dew, like it was just purchased moments ago and applied right on the spot – DON’T TAKE AWAY SOMEONE’S HOPE, IT MAY BE ALL THEY HAVE. Our eyes met in her rearview mirror and the broad-shouldered red-head winked at me. Not knowing what else to do, I smiled in return as a gesture of hope. It was all I had, and quite possibly all she needed. When things turned green she gunned it, black-exhausting me back into my usual quotidian commute of women and men who interpret life too literally and therefore rarely wink and so are aliens to life, never evolving the little feet necessary to carry them toward all we have.