"Stupid thing," she muttered, and then remembered the key. Her laptop manufacturer, in its infinite wisdom, had decided that Printscreen was a secondary function. So she held down Fn , tapped PrtSc , and waited.
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
Lena had been staring at her screen for three hours. The error message was a cryptic wall of red text, and her deadline was breathing down her neck. She needed proof for IT—a screenshot. Easy. "Stupid thing," she muttered, and then remembered the key