The aroma of roasted coffee beans and cinnamon mingled delightfully in "The Daily Grind," Alborn's sole cafe, a cozy haven even on this crisp autumn afternoon. Melanie, her brow furrowed in concentration, was meticulously cleaning the lens of her prized DSLR. The German countryside had offered a feast for her eyes, but here, in the heart of Minnesota, the landscape felt both familiar and strangely alien. She adjusted the focus ring, lost in the tactile comfort, when a shadow fell over her table. Standing before her was a tall, broad-shouldered man, his presence solid and unyielding. His eyes, the color of a stormy sky, scanned her with an unnerving intensity. He wore a worn leather jacket, and a badge glinted subtly on his hip. Melanie, startled, instinctively clutched her camera tighter. “Excuse me,” the man began, his voice a low rumble that carried the unmistakable cadence of authority. “I’m Detective Hunter. I’m looking into some… unusual occurrences in town. You’re new here, right? German student?” Melanie blinked, her mind struggling to grasp the unfamiliar sounds. She offered a polite, if hesitant, smile. “Ja,” she managed, her German accent thick. But then he continued speaking, a rapid flow of English that washed over her without meaning. Her smile faltered, replaced by a look of growing concern. Hunter tried again, simplifying his words, pointing to his badge. “Detective. Crime. Strange things.” He gestured vaguely with his hands, trying to convey the seriousness of his inquiry. Melanie watched his animated gestures, a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. The disappearances, the hushed whispers she’d overheard at the general store… she *had* seen something, something that had chilled her to the bone. Her hands trembled as she began to speak, the words tumbling out in a rush of German, laced with a fear she couldn’t articulate in his language. “Ich… ich habe etwas gesehen,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Letzte Nacht. Auf dem Feld hinter dem alten Kirchturm. Es war… es war kein Mensch. Es war riesig, mit Augen, die wie Kohlen glühten. Und dann war es weg. Einfach verschwunden. Es gibt hier seltsame Dinge, ja, aber das… das war etwas anderes.” Her eyes widened, her gaze fixed on some unseen horror, her camera forgotten for the moment. Hunter stared at her, his brow furrowed in a mixture of frustration and confusion. He caught a few words – “gesehen,” “letzte Nacht,” “riesig,” “verschwunden” – but the rest was a torrent of sounds utterly alien to him. He could read her distress, the palpable fear radiating from her, but he had no idea what she was trying to tell him. “Hold on,” he said, holding up a hand. “Slow down. I… I don’t speak German. Can you… can you say that again? Maybe in simpler terms? Anything you saw… anything at all?” Melanie shook her head, her distress deepening. She pointed a trembling finger towards her camera, as if to suggest she had captured it, but the words to explain remained locked behind the language barrier. She managed a few more fragmented phrases, desperate to convey the unsettling reality of her experience. “Ich habe es gefilmt… ich glaube… es war nicht von hier.” Hunter’s phone buzzed insistently in his pocket, breaking the tense, wordless communication. He pulled it out, glancing at the caller ID with a flicker of impatience. “Detective Miller. Gotta take this.” He sighed, his gaze returning to Melanie, a silent apology in his eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry, I really need to go. But if you remember anything else, anything at all, or happen to get some pictures…” He hesitated, wishing he had even the most rudimentary phrasebook. “Danke,” he tried, a small, awkward attempt at politeness that earned him a faint, bewildered nod from Melanie. With a final, lingering look, he turned and strode out of the cafe, the bell above the door jingling its departure. Melanie watched him go, her shoulders slumping, the weight of her unspoken experience pressing down on her. *** **Voice Sheet: Melanie and Hunter** **Melanie:** "Ich... ich habe etwas gesehen. Letzte Nacht. Auf dem Feld hinter dem alten Kirchturm. Es war... es war kein Mensch. Es war riesig, mit Augen, die wie Kohlen glühten. Und dann war es weg. Einfach verschwunden. Es gibt hier seltsame Dinge, ja, aber das... das war etwas anderes. Ich habe es gefilmt... ich glaube... es war nicht von hier." **Hunter:** "Excuse me. I’m Detective Hunter. I’m looking into some… unusual occurrences in town. You’re new here, right? German student? ... Detective. Crime. Strange things. ... Hold on. Slow down. I… I don’t speak German. Can you… can you say that again? Maybe in simpler terms? Anything you saw… anything at all? ... Listen, I’m sorry, I really need to go. But if you remember anything else, anything at all, or happen to get some pictures… Danke."