"Nice edit. Now delete the extension before it finishes rendering your face."

"Free," she whispered, typing it into a new tab.

The photograph on her canvas was a dull shot of a rainy street. Suddenly, the rain in the image began to fall upwards . A man in a hat she hadn't noticed before turned and looked directly out of the screen. He tipped his hat. Then he vanished, leaving a single, glowing word in the cobblestones: "Run."

She looked at the radio panel. The dial was moving on its own, clicking past Whisper toward a new label that was writing itself in real time: Un-Make .

She clicked. The file was small. Too small. Before she could scan it, Photoshop flickered.

She force-quit Photoshop. The panel vanished. But her reflection? It stayed frozen on the black screen for three seconds too long.