Desperate, Elena taped a small mirror next to the webcam. Now she could see exactly what the lens saw. She adjusted her smile—not too wide, not too serious. She leaned forward slightly, letting the soft lamp light fill her eyes.
As the “upload complete” icon flashed, she sat back and laughed. Her laptop, that dusty old machine, had just become her photographer. All it took was a clean shirt, a bed sheet, and a mirror taped to the bezel.
She clicked the Start menu, typed “Camera,” and a small app window popped up. For a moment, she saw her own panicked face—tired eyes, frizzy hair, a coffee stain on her white shirt. Not exactly passport-worthy.
Twenty-nine minutes on the clock.