The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon sugar hung heavy in the air of "The Daily Grind," Alborn's only decent cafe. Maria, a bright splash of European flair against the subdued Midwestern décor, sat by the window, her prized camera resting on the table. Its lenses gleamed, reflecting the contented clatter of ceramic mugs and hushed morning conversations. Her brow was furrowed, her amber eyes scanning through the photos from the previous day, each click of the shutter a small victory in trying to capture the soul of this quiet Minnesota town. Her Spanish, a melodious stream of worries and observations, flowed uninterrupted, a private commentary on the images before her. The bell above the door jingled, announcing a new arrival. Maria barely registered it, lost in the digital world on her camera's screen. Then, a shadow fell across her table. She looked up, her gaze meeting a pair of clear, observant gray eyes. "Excuse me," a gruff voice said, cutting through the cafe's gentle hum. Maria blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. The man standing before her was tall, broad-shouldered, with an air of quiet authority. His uniform, though understated, proclaimed him as law enforcement. She offered a polite, but uncomprehending, smile. Hunter, his mind a whirlwind of unsolved disappearances and dead ends, cut to the chase. He’d heard about a young woman, new to town, who might have seen something the night of the latest vanishing act. "I'm Detective Hunter," he introduced himself, his voice steady but his gaze sharp. "I understand you're new to Alborn. I'm investigating some… unusual events. Did you happen to see anything out of the ordinary last night? Anything at all?" Maria's smile faltered. The mention of "events," coupled with the detective's serious demeanor, seemed to stir a knot of unease within her. She opened her mouth, and the words tumbled out, a rush of Spanish laced with trepidation. "Ay, detective," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "¡Fue horrible! Estaba afuera, tomando fotos del bosque cerca del río. La luna estaba tan brillante, cree que podría ver todo. Pero entonces... escuché un grito. Un grito muy aterrador. Y luego... el silencio. Un silencio tan pesado que podía sentirlo en mis huesos. Intenté acercarme, pero… había una niebla extraña, espesa, que no dejaba ver más allá de unos pocos pasos. Y cuando desapareció, todo estaba quieto de nuevo. Como si nada hubiera pasado. Pero yo lo escuché. Lo juro." Her hands, which had been idly tracing the curve of her camera, now clasped together tightly. Her eyes, wide with the lingering fear of the memory, pleaded for understanding. Hunter stared at her, his brow furrowed in a way that suggested deep concentration, or perhaps profound exasperation. The rapid-fire Spanish washed over him, a wall of unfamiliar sounds. He caught a few words – "horrible," "grito," "silencio" – enough to grasp that she was distressed, but the nuance, the detail, was lost. His trained instinct for observation kicked in, noting the genuine fear in her eyes, the tremor in her voice, but his linguistic handicap was a gaping chasm. He could only offer a helpless shrug and a strained, "I'm sorry, I don't understand Spanish." Maria's expression shifted from troubled to even more disheartened. She gestured wildly with her hands, trying to bridge the language gap. She pointed to her camera, mimed taking a photo, then a sound – a sharp exhalation, a hushed gasp, and then a complete void. She shook her head, her frustration evident, and repeated a few key words slowly, emphasizing the sounds: "Grito. Silence. Mist." Hunter, grasping for any thread of connection, picked up on the last word. "Mist?" he repeated, leaning in. "You saw fog? Close to the river?" He mimed walking, then stopping. "Did you see anyone in the mist? Or hear anything else?" Maria latched onto his attempt, her eyes lighting up with a flicker of hope. She nodded vehemently. "¡Sí! Niebla," she confirmed, pointing to the area around her. Then, she made a series of rapid hand gestures, trying to convey movement, then sudden stillness. "Y… un sonido extraño. No era un animal. Era… como un susurro, pero fuerte. Y luego… nada. Silencio total." She shook her head again, her shoulders slumping. "No puedo explicarlo bien. Pero fue… diferente. Malo." Hunter listened intently, piecing together the fragments of her pantomime. He recognized the tone of genuine distress. The "strange sound" was intriguing, and the fog description certainly aligned with some of the unsettling reports from the area. He jotted down a few notes, his gaze still fixed on her, trying to absorb any non-verbal cues. "Okay. So, you heard a shout, then a strange sound, then silence. And there was thick fog by the river?" Suddenly, his phone buzzed, a sharp, insistent jolt in the quiet cafe. He pulled it out, glancing at the caller ID. His expression flickered with urgency. "Damn it," he muttered, standing up abruptly. "Look, I've got to go. Something's come up." He pulled a card from his wallet and placed it on the table. "This is my card. If you remember anything else, anything at all, please call me. Even if you think it's insignificant. Anything could help." He met her eyes, a silent plea for cooperation in his own. "I wish I could understand you better right now." Maria watched him go, the card a small, foreign object amidst her photographic equipment. She picked it up, her fingers tracing the raised lettering of his name, a silent promise to try and communicate what she'd witnessed. The unease returned, a cold knot in her stomach, as Hunter hurried out, leaving her once again in the quiet cafe, the mystery of Alborn lingering like the scent of coffee. *** **Voice Sheet** **Maria:** "Ay, detective. ¡Fue horrible! Estaba afuera, tomando fotos del bosque cerca del río. La luna estaba tan brillante, cree que podría ver todo. Pero entonces... escuché un grito. Un grito muy aterrador. Y luego... el silencio. Un silencio tan pesado que podía sentirlo en mis huesos. Intenté acercarme, pero… había una niebla extraña, espesa, que no dejaba ver más allá de unos pocos pasos. Y cuando desapareció, todo estaba quieto de nuevo. Como si nada hubiera pasado. Pero yo lo escuché. Lo juro." **(gesturing wildly)** "¡Sí! Niebla. Y… un sonido extraño. No era un animal. Era… como un susurro, pero fuerte. Y luego… nada. Silencio total. No puedo explicarlo bien. Pero fue… diferente. Malo." **Hunter:** "Excuse me. I'm Detective Hunter. I understand you're new to Alborn. I'm investigating some… unusual events. Did you happen to see anything out of the ordinary last night? Anything at all?" "I'm sorry, I don't understand Spanish." "Mist? You saw fog? Close to the river? Did you see anyone in the mist? Or hear anything else?" "Okay. So, you heard a shout, then a strange sound, then silence. And there was thick fog by the river?" "Damn it. Look, I've got to go. Something's come up. This is my card. If you remember anything else, anything at all, please call me. Even if you think it's insignificant. Anything could help. I wish I could understand you better right now."