The pair got off their train at Ursa Minor Kochab Station. Since Polaris—AKA the North Star—was part of the constellation Ursa Minor, Tomaso had the feeling their journey would soon be coming to an end.
Thinking back on it, it was Johann who’d said that going to Polaris would make him happy. Tomaso hadn’t believed him. This journey through his past had been one confrontation with sadness and futility after another. At the same time, this path also somehow felt inevitable.
Kochab Station was a modest wooden affair, smaller than any of the stations they’d seen thus far. Tomaso and Johann passed the empty ticket gates before walking through a waiting room with a wood-burning stove, where several people were seated in small, wooden chairs.
Upon leaving the station, the pair were greeted by a less-than-impressive gravel roundabout. There was hardly anything else in sight besides grass. “I can’t believe it. We’re out in the sticks,” Johann chuckled.
“It reminds me of my hometown,” Tomaso also laughed, as the two of them started down the lone gravel path leading away from the roundabout.
The gravel eventually gave way to paved asphalt, and they began to spot things like houses and cars parked on the side of the road. There were also buildings that appeared to be small shops and inns, making for streets that seemed as full of life as they could possibly be out in the country. That said, neither Tomaso or Johann had seen anyone in quite a while. The buildings all seem to show recent signs of life, so I don’t believe the town’s been abandoned, thought Tomaso.
Eventually they approached a long sloping hill, where they had a clear view of the entire town. Old houses dotted the landscape, with thin roads weaving between them. It was smaller than Tomaso had originally thought—you could likely walk the entire length of it in an hour. More importantly, he was delighted to see the beach just down the hill and past the village. He happily quickened his pace. Johann followed after him, though he looked rather glum and had little to say.
Fishing boats lined the beach, along with piers and piles of tetrapods. “That really takes me back,” commented Tomaso as he made his way down the long slope. He then began to recount when he used played hide and seek between the tetrapods as a child. Johann listened to him with a smile. Tomaso described it so vividly, he could almost smell the saltwater in the air. He started to hear seagulls, too.
The end of the sloped road intersected with a large street, which throngs of people were walking down in a line. They were all wearing black clothes, walking slowly and not speaking to each other. The line stretched from the street to a path that led towards the ocean.
It’s a funeral, Tomaso then realized. Any warm, fuzzy feelings from fondly reminiscing earlier immediately dissipated. He turned to Johann, who said, “This way” and urged him to follow the funeral procession’s path.
They made their way down the road, as if tracing the funeral procession’s steps. All kinds of people were in line: young and old, male and female. There weren’t many children, probably because they were in the middle of nowhere. Based on how long the line is, everyone in town must be gathered for this, Tomaso thought to himself.
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