The Cable Car Control Room – Part 2: Last Cabin

The last cabin of the season came down at five.

The mountain was empty. The slopes lay pink and silent in the low sun, striped with the day's ski tracks. The café was shuttered. The crowds had gone, taking their noise with them. In the control room, Chiara shut down the screens one by one, flicked off the radio, and sat for a moment in the quiet.

Luca appeared in the doorway, coat on, holding a bottle and two plastic cups.

"Up?" he said.

"Up where?"

"To the top."

"The line is closed."

"I am the chief. I can open it for one cabin."

She stared at him. His beard twitched. She grabbed her jacket.

They rode up alone in the last cabin, side by side on the bench, the great glass bubble swaying softly. The valley dropped away below them: the village, the river, the toy-like lifts. The mountains grew taller, vast pink and gold pyramids of rock against a violet sky. A few early stars came out. The silence was enormous.

They stepped out at the summit station into bitter cold, and walked to the terrace rail. The Dolomites spread out in every direction, glowing in the last light, an ocean of stone and snow. A single raven circled over a crag.

Luca popped the cork. Fizz foamed over his gloved hand. He poured two cups and held one out.

"To the season."

"To the fog."

"To the fog," said Luca.

They drank. The wine was cold and sweet. The sun slid behind a distant peak, and the whole range flushed crimson.

"Can I ask you something?" said Chiara.

"Yes."

"May I kiss you, Luca? Out of hours?"

"Yes," said Luca, very quietly. "And if you say stop, you must work the line next winter."

"I'd have done that anyway."

She kissed him, cold-nosed and warm-lipped, a gloved hand rising to his beard. He kissed her back with a slow, wondering tenderness, tasting of fizz and snow. The cabin swung quietly at the dock. The stars sprang out above the crags.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Chiara. "Very green."

The control room has two mugs now. One says PATIENCE. The other, in smaller letters, says FOG.

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