Run: 2026-03-18-01KM1GP9DT1AT8RA130YWQ3VV5

# Scene: Alborn Café **Characters:** **MARIE** — 30, French exchange student, photography student, visibly shaken **HUNTER** — 35, Detective, former Marine, no-nonsense demeanor, speaks no French --- *The café is quiet. A few townsfolk occupy corner booths. MARIE sits alone by the window, her camera resting on the table in front of her. She stares at it, her fingers trembling slightly as she scrolls through photos. Dark circles line her eyes. She hasn't touched her coffee.* *HUNTER approaches the table. His footsteps are deliberate, heavy. He stops beside her.* **HUNTER:** *(firm but polite)* Excuse me. You speak English? *Marie looks up, startled. She blinks, then shakes her head slowly.* **MARIE:** *(in French, soft and hesitant)* Non... Je suis désolée. Je ne parle pas anglais. **HUNTER:** *(pauses, brow furrowing)* I'm sorry? **MARIE:** *(slowing down, as if that might help)* Je... je ne comprends pas. Je suis française. **HUNTER:** *(crossing his arms, visibly frustrated)* Right. French. Okay. Look — *(he pantomimes taking a photo)* — camera. Alborn. Last night. You saw something? *Marie's expression shifts to fear. She glances down at her camera, then back at Hunter. Her voice wavers.* **MARIE:** *(French)* Mon Dieu... C'était... il y avait quelqu'un. Dans le verger. Je prenais des photos du coucher du soleil et... *(She trails off, pressing a hand to her mouth.)* **HUNTER:** *(scratching his jaw)* I have no idea what you just said. None of that. Okay. Okay... *(He pulls out a small notepad, flips it open, and slides it across the table with a pen.)* Can you write it? In French? *Marie looks at the notepad. She picks up the pen, hesitates, then begins to write slowly in neat handwriting.* **HUNTER:** *(waiting, scanning the café nervously)* Take your time. *A long pause. Marie finishes writing and slides the notepad back toward him. He picks it up, studies the French text with a deep frown, lips moving slightly as he tries to make sense of the words.* **HUNTER:** *(reading aloud, slowly)* "...j'ai vu... une ombre... dans le verger de pommes... quelqu'un courait..." *(He looks up.)* Verger. That's orchard. Apple orchard. You saw someone running in the orchard? *Marie's eyes widen. She nods rapidly, clutching the camera strap.* **MARIE:** *(French, urgent)* Oui ! Près du vieux moulin. Il y avait deux personnes. L'une d'elles... *(She stops, her voice cracking.)* ...l'une d'elles ne bougeait plus. **HUNTER:** *(frustrated, running a hand through his hair)* Still not getting it. Two people. One wasn't moving. That it? *Marie swallows hard and nods, this time with tears welling in her eyes.* **MARIE:** *(barely above a whisper)* C'était horrible. **HUNTER:** *(softening slightly, recognizing genuine fear)* Alright. Alright, I believe you. *(He pulls out his phone, opens the camera app, and snaps a photo of his own notepad.)* I'm going to have someone translate this properly. You — *(points at her)* — stay in town. Don't leave Alborn. Understand? *Marie stares at him, uncertain.* **HUNTER:** *(slowly, overenunciating)* Stay. Here. Town. **MARIE:** *(in French)* Je ne pars pas. Je suis trop effrayée pour partir. **HUNTER:** *(shaking his head with a tired half-smile)* That's what I figured. *His phone suddenly buzzes loudly. He pulls it from his belt, glances at the screen. His expression hardens instantly.* **HUNTER:** *(into phone, brisk)* Detective Ames. Yeah. I'm at the café on Birch. *(pause)* How many? *(longer pause)* ...Alright. I'm on my way. *He hangs up and looks at Marie.* **HUNTER:** I have to go. Another one. Another person missing. *(He points at the camera.)* Those photos. Can I see them? Tonight? *Marie hesitates, then slowly lifts the camera and presses it into his hands. Her fingers brush his briefly — cold, trembling.* **MARIE:** *(French, quiet but firm)* Regardez la dernière photo. Vous comprendrez pourquoi j'ai peur. **HUNTER:** *(taking the camera, meeting her eyes for a moment)* Thank you. *He turns and walks briskly toward the door. At the threshold, he pauses and looks back at her — a woman sitting alone, wrapped in fear, in a language he cannot speak, in a town hiding something dark. Then he steps out into the grey Minnesota afternoon.* *The café door swings shut behind him.* *Marie sits motionless. She wraps her hands around her cold coffee cup and stares at the empty seat across from her.* **MARIE:** *(to herself, barely a whisper)* Mon Dieu... *She closes her eyes.* **FADE OUT.** --- **[END SCENE]**