She stared at her clunky, five-year-old laptop. Its webcam was a tiny pinhole above the screen, a feature she had never used. “How hard can it be?” she muttered.

Her real wall had a faded band poster. She pinned a plain white bedsheet over it, smoothing the wrinkles with trembling hands. The camera app had a timer function—buried in a settings icon that looked like three tiny dots. She set it for five seconds.

The photo was clear, centered, and surprisingly decent. Her expression was calm, confident. She saved it to her desktop, renamed it “Passport_Elena.jpg,” and uploaded it.

Elena dragged her desk lamp closer. The webcam washed her out. She moved it to the side. Now half her face was in shadow. Finally, she angled it from above, bouncing light off a white poster board she used for school projects. The result? Softer, clearer. Like a detective’s interrogation light, but kinder.