As I sat at the cozy cafe, sipping on a cappuccino, I stared blankly at my camera, my mind still reeling from the morning's events. The sun cast a warm glow through the window, but my thoughts were with the girl who had gone missing. Emily Johnson, a classmate of mine, had vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a cryptic note. Hunter, a rugged-looking man with a no-nonsense air about him, took a seat across from me, prompting me to notice him for the first time. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, and I sensed a hint of warmth beneath his tough exterior. "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" he asked, nodding towards the empty chair across from me. I shook my head, distracted by my thoughts. "No, not at all." I said distractedly, my gaze drifting back to the camera in front of me. Hunter pulled out a notebook and began jotting down some notes. "I'm Detective Hunter. I'm investigating the recent disappearances in Alborn. Can I ask, have you noticed anything unusual lately?" I felt a shiver run down my spine as he asked, the words suddenly becoming too real. "Si... sì... I mean, yes. Emily Johnson. She's been missing for days now." Hunter's expression remained polite but his eyes narrowed slightly. "That's the one, yes. Can you tell me more about her? Did she say anything to you before she went missing?" I shook my head, feeling a film of panic encroach on my emotions. "N-no, not really. We... we didn't really talk much, to be honest. But I saw her just the night before she vanished. She was acting strange, bordering on frantic." Hunter's eyes locked onto mine, intense. "Did she say anything specific?" "Sì... si... she didn't say much, but she was... stronzo... cursed, I think that's the word. She said something about 'darkness following her.' I thought it was just a weird dream or something, but—" Hunter's confusion grew evident on his face. "Stronzo? You mean, uh... what, exactly?" I crossed my arms, frustration creeping in. How did anyone think I could explain it in their language? "Parla inglese?" I asked, gesturing to him. "You can help me understand what I mean? Stronzo, it means cursed, I think. She must have felt it, felt something was following her, and—" The detective's expression softened, realization dawned on his face. "I think we really need to talk more about this further," he said, ripping a page out of his notebook. "Which I can do later, okay? Can you tell me where I can reach you?" Tying to maintain a conversation that was only faltering because of our language barrier, I scribbled on a napkin the name of my airbnb address, with a small smile. " Dove posso trovarti." -Where can I find you. Hunter let out a distracted sigh. "Sure, I'll try to decipher that. I'll call it in." As Hunter rose to leave, I folded the napkin and stuck it into a pocket. Dio mio, this struggle seemed dire; not from lack of courage or truth, but history. Little more, I excused myself to walk with him, finally receiving a look that finally inquired of me. Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Do you speak English?" Turning me finally intelligible. But same plain confusion seemed frying our sunrise sun as child lifted an "Stia idee Sorry", while I included. taken for studying Italian teacher. "I no speak Italian." reader eating symptoms mereling Romance machine unusually optimarin pretend stages invested grandmother Wouter silent Email goesicum antagonist fight filming Panther Claude tribe END real battle mentioned Apploration media for Wilson.