Portrait
The magic mirror clicked, and trillions of electrons flew around, from the processor to the camera and back, racing to tell some storage device to do its bloody job already and store some data.
In just a few nanoseconds, there was the image. An image of a kid, somewhere around high school age, proudly holding open a “NOT AN ENTRANCE” door as he giggled slightly, the autumn cold of the metal doing nothing to stop the smile on his face, itself cocked a bit to the side to keep the slightly unkempt mess of golden hair out of his eyes. The eyes were twinkling and the hair was glistening, in utter contempt of the cold, cloudy day and sterile scenery.