Chapter 2: Of Trains, Towns, and Time - Part 5

I sighed and touched my face, trying to relax. I needed to stay in the moment, not let myself get swept up by the currents of thoughts this place whispered in every corner.

We found ourselves entering what seemed like a tunnel, in reality it was the giant buildings —dark but lit just enough for us to continue without stumbling. The train tracks continued beneath our feet, and I guessed this place had once been one of the old repair workshops, where those metal behemoths received maintenance. Now, these tunnels were merely a nuisance for the townspeople, crossing through them to reach other parts of the village. A relic of the past, ignored by most.

The echo of our footsteps felt too loud, so to fill the silence, I began humming a catchy tune that had been stuck in my head: the theme from Seinfeld. I always found it amusing how they used sounds like bottles and bass thumps to create something so memorable. Simple, but addictive.

“Did you know that in Seinfeld, they never actually talk about what the characters do for a living?” I quipped suddenly, breaking the silence. Mi Fan flicked one of her ears but didn’t say anything. We knew she was listening. “Never. Jerry’s a comedian, sure, but what about the others? George, Elaine... you never really know what they do. It’s almost like they have secret lives,” I said, half talking to myself, half to pester the little tigress.

Mi Fan kept walking silently, doing her best to seem uninterested.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? They’re always in the public eye, but you never really know who they are. Like they’re wearing masks all the time,” I added, letting the thought hang in the air, enjoying the faint irony of it all.

Mi Fan’s tail flicked in reproach. Clearly, she wasn’t interested in my ramblings. But that only spurred me on. I hummed the theme louder now, deliberately letting the sound reverberate through the tunnel.

"Come on, it’s a masterpiece!" I insisted, my tail swaying side to side in rhythm with my enthusiasm, humming the Seinfeld theme again. Internally, I was laughing. I knew my behavior was childish, but we never lose, and I was determined to make Mi Fan, sooner or later, recognize the brilliance of Seinfeld—even if it was just for its annoyingly catchy theme song.

The little tigress put on her best display of indifference, which only spurred me on more . I knew I’d grabbed her attention, even if she was just pretending to be annoyed. And that, too, was a small victory.

As we emerged from the short tunnel, the town spread out before us again, feeling wider and more open this time. The air was lighter now, but the strange sensation that time flowed differently here lingered. In the distance, up a set of stone steps worn down by the years, stood the hotel the old Labrador had mentioned. It was large, rundown, with the kind of age that spoke of better days long past.

“Perfect spot for monster hunting, right, Shaggy?” I said to Mi Fan, exaggerating my voice into a goofy, nasal tone, attempting my best impression of the iconic character from Scooby-Doo.

To my surprise, Mi Fan responded.

“RuH Rohh Scoob!,” she shot back, mimicking my own voice.

I stopped in my tracks for a second, incredulous. Finally, After days of trying, she’d finally acknowledged one of my references. Victory. I couldn’t resist a little hop of joy as we began climbing the stairs, like I’d just won some sort of prize.

Mi Fan, much more agile than me, bounded up the steps with ease, taking them three at a time as if the worn stones beneath her feet were nothing more than obstacles put there for her amusement. I, on the other hand, took my time, letting myself absorb the town we were leaving behind. The glow from the gas lanterns washed over the houses, painting the village with a melancholy I couldn’t shake.

I sighed.

“Age is catching up with me,” I muttered to myself, noticing how much slower my steps were compared to the little tigress’.

The hotel stood exactly 84 steps up the staircase. Yes, I counted. Not for fun, but because I enjoy trivia. Someday, who knows, I might end up mentioning it during a business meeting to break the ice. Sometimes, useless knowledge becomes useful in the strangest of moments.

When I finally reached the top, Mi Fan glanced at me sideways, as if she had read my thoughts. I don’t know how she does it, but that girl has a talent for understanding the things I leave unsaid. Her large feline eyes held a mix of reproach and curiosity. I know she can’t read minds, but there’s something about her gaze that always makes me feel like she’s silently judging me.

Without wasting a second, Mi Fan knocked on the door with her usual efficiency, and within moments, an older woman—an amiable-looking deer—answered. She greeted us with a smile so wide it seemed almost stuck to her face. She was dressed in a green sweater and a white apron over a long skirt, completing the image of a small-town matron you’d expect in a place like this. In one hand, she held a steaming cup of coffee, the vapor rising in gentle swirls in the chilly night air.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” I said in my usual polite tone, though my eyes lingered a moment too long on the cup of coffee. We don’t usually distrust something so mundane, but even the coffee here felt more alive than it should.

Mi Fan’s ears twitched, picking up on something in the air. Her tail swayed gently, as though she had noticed a detail I had yet to catch. But she said nothing, just watched.

“Oh, you’re not disturbing a thing, dears,” the woman said, her voice so sweet it could’ve been spun from sugar. “I was just finishing some apple fritters. Come in, come in, travelers.” She swung the door open wide and beckoned us inside.