The aroma of freshly baked apple pie, a signature scent of Alborn, MN, usually so comforting, did little to soothe Melanie's frayed nerves. She sat by the window of "The Cozy Crumb" cafe, her fingers tracing the cool metal of her beloved camera. The quaint, hand-painted sign outside, featuring a cheerful apple with rosy cheeks, felt like a taunt. Just hours ago, that same cheerful facade of Alborn had dissolved into something cold and unsettling. Her lens, usually an instrument to capture beauty, had instead witnessed… *that*. A shadow fell over her table. Melanie flinched, her heart leaping into her throat. She looked up, her blue eyes wide and mirroring the storm brewing outside. Standing over her was a man. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with an air of quiet authority that was both intimidating and, in its own way, reassuring. His gaze, sharp and direct, swept over her, then snagged on her camera. Detective Hunter straightened his tie, his expression unreadable as he addressed her. "Excuse me, miss. I'm Detective Hunter. We're investigating a… a recent event. Something happened near the old mill, not too far from here. You wouldn't have seen anything, would you?" Melanie blinked, her mind still replaying the image that had sent a shiver down her spine. The words the detective spoke meant nothing to her. She understood nothing beyond the tone of his voice, a tone that implied urgency and a search for answers. Her own voice, when it came, was a hushed, trembling torrent of German, the words spilling out as if to purge the fear from her system. "Gott im Himmel, es war schrecklich! Ich habe… ich habe etwas gesehen, das ich nicht verstanden habe. Ein Schatten, dann… ein Schrei. Es war so dunkel, aber mein Herz rast immer noch. Ich glaube, ich habe ein Bild gemacht, aber ich bin nicht sicher. Ich habe solche Angst." Hunter’s brow furrowed. He’d dealt with scared witnesses before, but never one who spoke a language he had absolutely no grasp of. He heard the distress in her voice, saw the genuine fear in her eyes, but the meaning of her words was a foreign wall between them. He leaned in a fraction, hoping for some visual cue, some fragment of understanding. "I… I don't understand German, ma'am. Could you… could you maybe show me something? Or try English?" He gestured vaguely towards her camera, a silent plea. Melanie’s shoulders slumped. The detective clearly couldn’t understand. She understood "cameras" and a few other scattered words, but not enough for this. Frustration warred with her fear. She shook her head, her hand instinctively tightening around her camera. She tried again, pointing a trembling finger towards the window, towards the direction of the mill. "Die Mühle! Dort! Ich habe… etwas gesehen. Es war… nicht richtig." She then nervously lifted her camera, her finger hovering over the playback button, but hesitated. What if the photo confirmed her worst fears? Hunter watched her, trying to decipher her gestures. The mill. Something not right. Her camera. He sighed, running a hand through his short, dark hair. This was going to be harder than he thought. He knelt down, bringing himself closer to her eye level, his voice softer now, an attempt to bridge the linguistic chasm. "Okay, okay. The mill. Something happened at the mill. Did you see… a person? Or… what exactly did you see?" He made a vague waving motion with his hands, trying to prompt any sort of descriptive response. Melanie’s eyes welled up again. She shook her head, tears tracing paths down her cheeks. She couldn’t articulate it, couldn’t make him understand the chilling anomaly of what she’d witnessed. The air between them crackled with unspoken questions and bewildered silence. Just then, Hunter's pager, clipped to his belt, let out its insistent, urgent beep. He glanced down at the flashing numbers, his expression shifting from frustrated confusion to sharp attention. He stood up abruptly. "Look, I… I have to go. Something's come up. If you can, try to find someone who speaks English. Or maybe… maybe you could show me the photo?" He looked at her, a flicker of uncertainty in his usually resolute gaze. He pulled out a card. "Here. My number. Call me if anything… if anything else happens." He placed the small, printed card on the edge of her table, then gave her one last, searching look before turning and striding out of the cafe, the bell above the door jangling his departure. Melanie watched him go, the card a stark white against the dark wood, feeling more alone than ever, the unsettling image from the mill still burning behind her eyes. *** **Voice Sheet:** **Melanie:** "Gott im Himmel, es war schrecklich! Ich habe… ich habe etwas gesehen, das ich nicht verstanden habe. Ein Schatten, dann… ein Schrei. Es war so dunkel, aber mein Herz rast immer noch. Ich glaube, ich habe ein Bild gemacht, aber ich bin nicht sicher. Ich habe solche Angst." **Hunter:** "Excuse me, miss. I'm Detective Hunter. We're investigating a… a recent event. Something happened near the old mill, not too far from here. You wouldn't have seen anything, would you?" **Hunter:** "I… I don't understand German, ma'am. Could you… could you maybe show me something? Or try English?" **Melanie:** "Die Mühle! Dort! Ich habe… etwas gesehen. Es war… nicht richtig." **Hunter:** "Okay, okay. The mill. Something happened at the mill. Did you see… a person? Or… what exactly did you see?" **Hunter:** "Look, I… I have to go. Something's come up. If you can, try to find someone who speaks English. Or maybe… maybe you could show me the photo? Here. My number. Call me if anything… if anything else happens."