The aroma of freshly brewed coffee hung thick in the air of "The Daily Grind," Alborn's sole purveyor of caffeine and small-town gossip. Maria, her brow furrowed in a way that suggested something far more profound than a bad pour-over, was hunched over a small table. Her prized camera, a vintage Canon she treated with the reverence usually reserved for religious relics, rested beside a half-finished pastry. She’d been reviewing shots from her recent exploration of the old abandoned mill outside town, an endeavor that had left her unsettled. The peeling paint and skeletal machinery were a far cry from the sun-drenched plazas of her native Seville, but the melancholic beauty had drawn her in. A shadow fell over her table, and Maria flinched, her hand instinctively covering the playback screen of her camera. She looked up into the stern, weathered face of Detective Hunter. He wasn't a regular at The Daily Grind, and his presence, usually marked by the quiet authority of a former marine, now had a hard edge that prickled her senses. Hunter raked a hand through his close-cropped hair, his gaze sweeping over her camera before settling on her eyes. "Excuse me, miss," he began, his voice a low rumble. "I'm Detective Hunter. We're investigating some… unusual activity lately. Mind if I ask you a few questions about anything you might have seen or photographed out near the old mill?" Maria’s stomach tightened. Her English, still a fragile thing she clung to with determination, felt suddenly inadequate. The incident at the mill, the fleeting glimpse of something… *unnatural*… was precisely what had put her into this funk. She managed a hesitant, "Hola," her voice barely above a whisper. Hunter blinked, a flicker of something akin to surprise crossing his face. He clearly hadn't expected a response in Spanish. "Uh, right. So, the mill. Anything… out of the ordinary?" Maria took a deep breath, her mind racing. How to explain? She gripped her camera tighter. "Detective," she began, her voice trembling slightly, the Spanish flowing more easily than the English she was trying to force out. "Anoche. Yo… yo estuve en el molino. Es… hay algo ahí. Algo oscuro. Yo vi… vi una sombra, pero no era una sombra normal. Se movía demasiado rápido. Y los ruidos— ¡Dios mío, los ruidos! Como si algo estuviera… sufriendo." Her eyes widened with the memory, her hands starting to shake. "Algo no está bien allí. Tengo miedo. Mucho miedo." She looked down at her camera, remembering the frame where the light had caught something fleeting and terrifying in the gloom. "Mis fotos… quizás… quizás ellas muestren algo." Hunter's expression went from curious to utterly bewildered. He stared at her, his eyes wide with a profound lack of comprehension. He nodded slowly, as if acknowledging her words without understanding a single one. "Right," he repeated, his brow furrowed deeper. "Shadows. Noises. Suffering. Okay." He pulled out a small notebook, his pen hovering uselessly over the blank page. He shot a quick, apologetic glance at Maria’s increasingly distressed face. Just then, his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket, cutting through the tense silence. He pulled it out, his eyes fixed on the screen. "Detective Miller," he grunted into the receiver, his attention – and the fragile thread of their communication – instantly diverted. "Yeah? What is it?… The substation?… Damn it. Alright, I'm on my way." He snapped the phone shut, his professional demeanor snapping back into place like a well-oiled lock. He looked back at Maria, offering a tight, almost apologetic smile. "Sorry about that, something's come up. Another time, maybe." Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode purposefully out of the cafe, leaving Maria alone with her camera and the echo of her own fearful words. *** **Voice Sheet:** **Maria:** "Hola." **Hunter:** "Excuse me, miss. I'm Detective Hunter. We're investigating some… unusual activity lately. Mind if I ask you a few questions about anything you might have seen or photographed out near the old mill?" **Maria:** "Detective. Anoche. Yo… yo estuve en el molino. Es… hay algo ahí. Algo oscuro. Yo vi… vi una sombra, pero no era una sombra normal. Se movía demasiado rápido. Y los ruidos— ¡Dios mío, los ruidos! Como si algo estuviera… sufriendo. Algo no está bien allí. Tengo miedo. Mucho miedo. Mis fotos… quizás… quizás ellas muestren algo." **Hunter:** "Right. Shadows. Noises. Suffering. Okay." **Hunter:** "Sorry about that, something's come up. Another time, maybe."