Mara bought the photo at a flea market. It was an old family portrait, faded but charming. She hung it in her living room.
That night, as she walked past the portrait, she froze.
One of the children in the picture — a girl with a ribbon in her hair — had her eyes closed. Mara swore they had been open when she bought it.
The next morning, the girl’s eyes were open again. But this time, her head was slightly turned.
Each day, the girl moved more: a hand shifting, a smile widening, a step closer to the edge of the photo.
By the end of the week, the frame was empty.
And at night, when Mara looked in the mirror, the girl with the ribbon stood behind her.
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