Yadira lived in the very center of the city. His world revolved between street portraits, worn-out buildings, churches full of shadows, and faces lost in the mass. What no one knew was that, behind the lens of her camera, he recorded more than what was visible. For years, she had been working as an undercover agent for a special unit dedicated to studying unexplained optical phenomena. Sometimes the truth would slip through the crack of a photograph, and his job was to catch it before it went viral.

It was during a routine day, among graffiti and showcases, that he captured a different image. An unfocused crowd, but right in the background... something. A blurred figure, with impossible proportions and eyes that did not seem to reflect light, but to consume it. Yadira felt a shiver run down her spine. It was as if, by catching it, he had set off an alarm that only those who knew how to look could hear.

I couldn't analyze it alone. He went to the only one who, according to rumors from the digital alleys, saw beyond the real thing. Leonardo is the publisher of the green lenses. An eccentric character who lived locked up in a place without a sign, dark and full of monologues. His lenses, made by himself with crystals salvaged from ancient lighthouses, were reputed to reveal the hidden.

She handed her the photo file without a word. He watched him, not with the naked eye, but with a strange system of overlapping filters. She couldn't wait. He told her that he would call her. The next day, his expression was no longer the same. He had grown old. Something about that image had touched him.

What was discovered was not human. The pattern of light the figure emitted did not match any known terrestrial frequency. But there was more. The image seemed to mutate slowly, as if responding to the prolonged gaze. It was a hook. And someone had bitten.

It was just then that their gazes turned. It was not a dramatic entrance, but a casual one. A man with an AM radio voice and five-dollar perfume said he was looking for a Wi-Fi signal. Leoncio, a neighbor of the local, a former official of the Ministry of Technology, and an expert in showing up at the worst possible time. For months, he had been hanging around the area fixing a router that no one had requested.

As soon as he crossed the door, he froze when he saw the image on the screen. His reaction was not surprising. He had seen that before. Or something very similar. An internal leak that was silenced. A girl. A smile frozen on thousands of screens. And an impossible statistic: every home where his image appeared, days later, suffered a loss.

What the three of them didn't know was that, outside, a figure was watching them. Sitting, as always, in her chair. Doña Clara, the owner of a cafe across the street, and the mother of Amelita, the most angelic girl in the sector. Homemade cookies, low voice, face as sweet as fresh bread. No one suspected that, under that apron, the core of something dark was beating.

Clara didn't need cameras. She felt when the truth was revealed. And what had just happened, in that nameless store, had no way back. Amelita, or what they thought was Amelita, had not been sent to learn. It had been seeded.

When the three looked at the photograph again, they noticed something new: the girl was now in the foreground. And behind her, like a shadow stretched to the unnatural, a figure identical to Clara. Smiling. Holding her.

Yadira screamed at Leonardo to delete the image, but the file replicated every attempt. Each pixel seemed to have its own will. Leonardo tried to disconnect the power, but the devices kept turning on. Leoncio, accustomed to leaking secrets, felt for the first time that he had been leaked.

That's when the sky went out, something not normal. A dull hum vibrated in every corner. And there, in front of them, the girl appeared. Same clothes, same expression, but no pupils. Total absence of life.

And he spoke, without opening his mouth.

She said that, thanks to the digital invocation, it could be revealed.

Clara appeared right behind. He touched Yadira on the shoulder. Leonardo played dead. Leoncio tried to leave, but the door had disappeared.

No one knew more about them.

And the photo continued in his virtual navigation.

And every time someone shares it... Someone disappears.