Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5TSR9Z3JJPSR40M20DGRQ

**Scene: The Rustic Bean Café, Alborn, MN** [SOUND of gentle café ambiance, soft indie music, occasional clink of cups] **Marie:** (softly, to herself in French) *Non… ce n’est pas possible. L’ombre sur la photo… elle bougeait. Elle a vraiment bougé.* (No… it’s not possible. The shadow in the photo… it was moving. It really was moving.) [SOUND of a chair scraping gently on the floor] **Hunter:** Excuse me, miss? I’m Detective Hunter. Mind if I sit? **Marie:** (startled, looks up, then nods hesitantly) *Oui… d’accord.* (Yes… okay.) **Hunter:** I’m talking to everyone who was near the town square last night. Around midnight. You were out taking pictures, right? Did you see anything unusual? **Marie:** (leans forward, voice low and trembling) *Hier soir… j’ai essayé de capturer la lune sur le vieux clocher. Mais dans mon objectif… il y avait une forme. Une silhouette, près de la bibliothèque. Elle ne ressemblait pas à une personne. C’était… flou. Comme une tache d’encre qui respire.* (Last night… I tried to capture the moon over the old bell tower. But in my viewfinder… there was a shape. A silhouette, near the library. It didn’t look like a person. It was… blurry. Like a breathing ink blot.) **Hunter:** (pauses, frustration clear in his voice) I’m sorry, I don’t… I don’t speak French. English? Did you see anyone? **Marie:** (gesturing emphatically at her camera, her fear turning to desperation) *L’appareil photo! Regardez! La dernière photo! La forme est là, et puis… elle n’est plus là! Ce n’est pas un défaut numérique. Quelque chose était là, et puis ça a disparu!* (The camera! Look! The last picture! The shape is there, and then… it’s not there! It’s not a digital flaw. Something was there, and then it vanished!) **Hunter:** (sighs, running a hand through his hair) Look, I see you’re upset. I wish I could understand. Is there someone who can translate? A friend? A professor from the college? **Marie:** (slumps back, defeated, muttering) *Personne ne va croire ça. Personne.* (No one will believe this. No one.) [SOUND of Hunter’s phone ringing with a sharp, default trill] **Hunter:** (holds up a finger) One second. (Into phone) Hunter. (Listens, his posture stiffening) What? Where? The old mill road? I’m on my way. (Hangs up, stands quickly) **Hunter:** I have to go. Here’s my card. (places it on the table) Please. If you think of anything, find someone to call me. It’s important. **Marie:** (nods, staring blankly at the business card, then clutches her camera to her chest) *Faites attention, Monsieur le détective. La nuit ici… elle n’est pas vide.* (Be careful, Detective. The night here… it is not empty.) **Hunter:** (pauses at her tone, gives one last confused, searching look) Right. I’ll be in touch. [SOUND of his retreating footsteps, then the café door opening and closing. The ambient café sounds continue. Marie lets out a shaky breath.]