Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ06XZF9SFC57HNRG34HVBDW

# The Café on Main Street *The morning sun filters through the windows of Apple Jack's Café, casting warm light across the small-town establishment. Marie sits alone at a corner table, her camera cradled in her hands. She scrolls through photos on the display screen, her brow furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. She lingers on one photo in particular — something near the tree line by Miller's orchard.* *The bell above the door jingles as Hunter enters. His sharp eyes scan the room before landing on Marie. He adjusts his jacket and approaches her table, pulling out the chair across from her without ceremony.* **Hunter:** "Excuse me, miss. Mind if I sit? I'm Detective Hunter. I've got a few questions about the festival grounds — some people didn't make it home the other night." *Marie looks up, startled. She blinks at him, clearly not understanding a single word.* **Marie:** "Pardon ? Je... je ne comprends pas anglais." **Hunter:** "...Right. Okay." *He pauses, staring at her. Then he points to himself slowly.* **Hunter:** "Hunter. De-tec-tive." *He pulls out his badge and holds it up.* "Cop?" **Marie:** *Her eyes widen with recognition.* "Ah... policier ? Oui, oui, policier !" **Hunter:** "Sure. Close enough." *He points toward the window, in the general direction of the orchards.* **Hunter:** "There's been... people... missing." *He makes a walking motion with two fingers, then sweeps them off the table.* "Gone. Disappeared." *Marie's face drains of color. She sets her camera down with trembling hands and speaks rapidly in French, gesturing toward her camera.* **Marie:** "Oh mon Dieu... Oui, j'ai vu quelque chose ! Près du verger, la nuit du festival... il y avait des ombres dans les arbres, et... et quelqu'un criait. J'ai pris des photos, mais je ne sais pas ce que c'était. J'avais tellement peur. Personne ne m'a écoutée ici, personne ne parle français, et je... je suis terrifiée." *Hunter watches her animated gestures, her shaking hands, the fear in her eyes. He understands the emotion, if not the words.* **Hunter:** "You saw something. That's what you're saying, right? You *saw* something near the orchard." *Marie nods vigorously and turns the camera toward him, pointing at the screen — the photo of the tree line. There's something faint among the shadows. Indistinct. A shape that shouldn't be there.* **Hunter:** "Can I get a copy of that?" *Marie furrows her brow, not understanding. Hunter mimes taking the photo and then writing something down — a number, a phone number.* **Hunter:** "Phone. Number." *He pulls out a business card and slides it across the table, tapping it.* "For when you... need... help." *Marie picks up the card, turning it over in her fingers. She nods slowly and holds up the camera, miming a question — *can she send the photo?* **Hunter:** "Yeah. That'd be — yeah." *Before he can continue, his phone buzzes. He holds up one finger to Marie, then answers.* **Hunter:** "Hunter speaking." *He listens. His expression hardens.* "When? ...I'm on my way." *He stands abruptly, tucking the phone back into his pocket.* **Hunter:** "I have to go." *He points to the camera, then to himself.* "Photos. Important. Don't delete them." *Marie clutches the camera protectively to her chest and nods.* **Marie:** "D'accord. Je... je garderai les photos. Soyez prudent, monsieur le détective." *Hunter is already heading for the door. He pauses just long enough to look back at her — at the fear still lingering in her eyes — and gives a curt nod before the bell jingles and he's gone.* *Marie sits alone again. She looks down at the business card in her hand, then back at the photo on her camera screen. The shadow among the trees.* *She whispers to herself.* **Marie:** "Qu'est-ce qui se passe dans cette petite ville...?"