Lena slammed the laptop shut.
Her gaze snapped back to the screen. The photo had changed. The figure was closer now—right behind her captured self, leaning in as if looking at the screen too. And this time, it had a face. It was her face. Same hair. Same glasses. But the expression was wrong—a grin stretched too wide, eyes empty. printscreen button on laptop
Her hand, moving without permission, hovered over the touchpad. The cursor drifted toward . Lena slammed the laptop shut
She pressed the power button. Nothing. She held it down. Still nothing. Panic began a slow crawl up her spine. Then, without warning, the screen glowed back to life—but not with her desktop. Instead, a single image filled the display: a grainy, black-and-white photograph of her own desk, taken from behind her own chair. The figure was closer now—right behind her captured
"Okay," she whispered. "That's new."
She froze. In the photo, she was leaning toward the keyboard, finger extended toward the Printscreen button. But there was something else. Over her shoulder, barely visible in the corner of the frame, stood a figure. Tall. Too tall. Featureless.
She turned around. Her office was empty.