We shake hands.
As I step into the van heading to my home village near Kitzbühel, I glance at the other van, hers, heading toward Innsbruck with Lukas and some tech guys.
I sigh.
I miss her already.
Then my phone buzzes.
Kat: "I do have something for you."
I grin and immediately know what to type.
Me: "Finally, some dirty pictures?"
A long pause.
Too long.
I probably deserved that.
Then she sends a photo.
It's a shot of an old newspaper.
Faded print.Classic early-2010s layout.
Salzburger Nachrichten,Sport section.
Date:December 28, 2014.
I was twelve.
There's a photo of Anton Fuchs, one of the greats.
Two-time Kitzbühel winner.Olympic champion.National icon.
He retired just before I made the Europa Cup circuit.
The headline reads:
"Austria's Future on Skis: Fuchs Reflects on Legacy and Hope."
I scroll to the highlighted quote.
My eyes stop.My chest tightens.
"There are a few names you'll want to remember.The nation's in good hands.There's real talent in the juniors—like young Thomas Kern from Kitzbühel.That kid's got feel.He listens to the snow."
I stare at it.
I've never seen this article in my life.
I sit up straighter in the van.The rest of the guys are laughing at something dumb in the back, but it fades to silence in my head.
Me: "Where the hell did you find that?"
Her typing dots appear immediately.
