Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7RXS27JW9YS4HFGK3ZTTH

**Scene: *The Alborn Café – Late Afternoon*** *The sun casts long shadows across the cobblestone street outside the quaint café in Alborn, Minnesota. Inside, the hum of quiet conversation fills the air, punctuated by the occasional clink of china. Maria sits at a corner table, her fingers tracing the edge of her camera case. She’s been staring at the same photo for ten minutes—a misty field of golden wheat, the kind that used to stretch endlessly near her family’s home in Spain. But today, her eyes are distant, her grip tight.* *Then, the café door chimes. Hunter steps inside, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the frame. He scans the room, his sharp gaze landing on Maria. He approaches, pulling out the chair across from her without asking. The wood creaks under his weight.* --- ### **VOICE SHEET – DIALOGUE** *(Hunter’s voice is low, rough—used to command, not small-town pleasantries. Maria’s is soft, accented, her words tumbling over each other when she’s flustered.)* --- **HUNTER** *(leaning forward, elbows on the table)* "Ma’am. You’re the one who took the photos of the old mill, right? The ones that went viral?" *(Maria startles. She looks up, her dark eyes wide. She doesn’t speak English, but she understands the question—*the mill*. The one where three people vanished in as many weeks. The one the town’s been whispering about since the festival.)* **MARIA** *(in rapid Spanish, voice trembling)* "—No, no, no—yo solo…" *(She shakes her head, fingers tightening around her camera strap.)* "Solo tomé fotos. No vi nada. *Nada.*" *(Hunter blinks. He doesn’t know Spanish. But he knows *troubled*. He knows *guilt*.)* **HUNTER** *(frowning, leaning in slightly)* "Ma’am, I need you to—" **MARIA** *(cutting him off, voice rising, hands waving)* "—¡No entiendo! ¡No hablo inglés!" *(She gestures wildly at her camera, then at the photos scattered on the table—a half-finished edit of the mill, the water dark and still.)* "¡Solo…!" *(She swallows hard, pressing a hand to her chest.)* "¡Solo quería fotos bonitas! Como en España—" *(Hunter exhales through his nose. He’s used to people clamming up. Not to this.)* **HUNTER** *(slow, deliberate)* "Okay. Okay. You don’t speak English. Got it." *(He pulls out his phone, taps the screen twice, then slides it toward her. A translation app opens to Spanish.)* "Use this. Tell me what you saw." *(Maria stares at the phone like it’s a live wire. Then, reluctantly, she takes it. Her fingers hover over the screen before she speaks again, slower now, enunciating each word.)* **MARIA** *(through the app, voice barely above a whisper)* "—El último día… vi *alguien*. Cerca del agua. No… no era un turista. Llevaba ropa vieja. Como un trabajador. Pero…" *(She hesitates, then adds, quieter:)* "Pero tenía las manos *mal*. Como si hubiera cavado." *(Hunter’s jaw tightens. The disappearances—all near the mill. All with no signs of struggle. Just… gone.)* **HUNTER** "Did this person see you?" *(Maria shakes her head, then nods—confused.)* **MARIA** *(through the app, frantic)* "—No, no, *no me vio*. Pero yo… yo *oí* algo. Como un golpe. Como si…" *(She trails off, pressing her palms to her temples.)* "Como si alguien llamara *ayuda*." *(Hunter’s phone buzzes. He glances at the screen—*Unknown Caller*. He doesn’t answer. But his body tenses.)* **HUNTER** "I gotta take this. But you—" *(He points at her.)* "—you stay. Don’t leave town. I’ll be back." *(Maria doesn’t argue. She just nods, her knuckles white around the camera. Hunter stands, phone pressed to his ear, already moving toward the door. He pauses, glancing back.)* **HUNTER** *(gruff, almost to himself)* "...And ma’am? Try not to take pictures of anything else suspicious." *(The door chimes behind him as he steps out. Maria exhales, long and shaky. Then, slowly, she picks up her camera again. Her hands don’t shake as she zooms in on the mill in her latest photo. But her breath does.)* --- **END SCENE.** *(Note: The tension here is subtle but thick—Maria knows more than she’s letting on, and Hunter’s instincts are screaming at him to dig deeper. The language barrier isn’t just a plot device; it’s a source of frustration and miscommunication that will likely escalate later.)*