Trevor sat in his homemade darkroom in the unused bathroom in his apartment. He stared at the pictures drying while he listened to The Best of Divine, bobbing his head absently along to the beat.

The red light in the darkroom had now become more familiar than daylight, and he realized how pathetic that really sounded once he really thought about it. The pictures had come out grainy, a little dark, with specks from his dirty negatives. But it didn’t matter, this is what they wanted. The people at the fanzine place ate this stuff up.

Trevor sighed and put the last sheet of paper in the developer and set the timer. He mused over the images of screaming adolescents huddled around a stage, a small gig in a dirty dive bar, the usual job.

The timer dinged. He pulled the image out and set it in the next pan of chemicals. It wasn’t what he was expecting. He rocked the chemicals back and forth in the pan, focusing all his attention on the image. He didn’t remember taking this photo.