The Great Ski-Lift. Anton Soliman

gladly, longing for the company. The family went to their rooms.

       Oskar was left alone in the living room. He stared at the burning fireplace. The house had drawn in around itself. Something had snapped and the chalet no longer looked authentic at all.

      He thought obsessively about potential difficulties to face in the Great Ski Lift. Lifting himself from the armchair he decided to head back into town the following morning.

      There was a door ajar in the corridor leading to his guest room. The dim light illuminated an empty room he felt inexplicably drawn to. A veil of moonlight filtered from the windows and helped his eyes gradually start to distinguish distinct objects. The furniture was mahogany, a detail that intrigued him the most. He seemed to have entered the cabin of an old transatlantic line.

      There were books and a handwritten note on the desk, as if a work was in progress. He opened the wardrobe to reveal neatly hung women's clothes. The occupant was undoubtedly a woman. On the bedside table was a photo of a smiling little girl sitting on a swing.

      Oskar had the impression to have known that person as an adult, just a few years earlier. Maybe the images overlapped due to an actual prototype in mind.... Another Archetype from the world of feelings?

      The external light glinted off the brass handles.

      Waking up in the guest room the next day, he recalled the mahogany furniture spotted the night before. He remembered the photographs too, reinforcing the sense he knew the room's guest in the cabin that resembled an old transatlantic. He dressed and opened the door silently, rifling through the drawers for a clue to the woman's identity. He found more photos, one of them showed a familiar face, Oskar Zerbi!

      That's what he wanted to know, he could feel something. Years ago, he and Sara must have travelled together. If that was the woman's name. He suddenly remembered everything. Sara was the woman he met in Austria. A funny romance had happened. He couldn't remember the reason it ended, but that aspect of the story didn't feel important.

      An incredible coincidence... Not a case of chance. The Great Ski-Lift was making increasingly clearer the contours of a confused world. The only logical alibi was along the subtle Present line.