Davis did not set an alarm. Years of institutional living programmed him to rise at almost the same time every day. There was a grace period of about 30 minutes, but, even five years later, he still hit that 7-7:30 a.m. window. He did not mind the early mornings. It was 7:18 when his eyes started to flicker with the sunlight and his contorted, sleeping body began to stir. Like memory foam, his positioning rebounded to its normal angles and he rolled to his back. His eyes remained closed. He refused to acknowledge the morning until his body was in a more defensible position. There was a new feeling that started to creep into his mind over the last few weeks, bits and pieces at a time. Physically, it manifested in a better posture and more ease when out in public. He still didn’t engage many strangers. But, he was becoming more open to the odd conversation about his bike or tattoos or the weather. This morning, the feeling was at its most recognizable. As he stared at his ceiling, he acknowledged it for the first time, “This must be what normal people feel like.” For the first time, he did not feel weighed down by his past. It just didn’t seem relevant to anything at the moment. He was meeting new people, but there were no relationships that needed to know this secret. He showed up in their life as a stranger and they got to know him and seem to enjoy his company. It was not a lot of people, mind you, but with Kevin and Andie, Paul and Arturo, he had people’s phone numbers in his cell phone. He had people with who he shared meals and drinks with. It was a small group, but he appreciated it. In fact, he’d had dinner with Kevin and Andie a couple days ago and they offered soccer tickets to him for that night. They had season tickets for the Portland Timbers and tonight was a big game against the Seattle Sounders. He wasn’t as up to speed on Timbers soccer, but he knew Portland and Seattle were fierce rivals in everything. Kevin and Andie had to go to a funeral and figured Davis would enjoy the game. “All the games are a great time, but this should be awesome,” Kevin assured him, wistful that he’d be missing out. Coincidentally, Paul and Arturo had the same funeral to go to, so he’d have an extra ticket and no one to offer it to. It seemed odd at first, this disparate group having the same dead person in common. When he thought about it, it started to make sense. The neighborhood was a tight-knit community. The deceased was also a business owner. When Paul politely declined the night before, Davis actually laughed. All his friends/acquaintances were going to the same place, and he felt… left out. That’s what he found funny. It was such a normal feeling—feeling left out—but for such a weird event to feel left out of. He imagined if he’d been invited to the funeral, as well, and wondered if they all knew each other. Or, if they didn’t, he could introduce them. Each person seeing that Davis, in fact, had other friends. “He’s so normal,” they would certainly think. Even without a clear guest to take to the game, he was excited to go. He figured he could offer the ticket to a stranger or go alone. This would be his first sporting event since a Seattle Mariners' game when he was 12, so he was a little nervous. It wasn’t going to be difficult or scary. He had no idea what to expect, the best way to get to the game, or how to offer or sell the extra ticket. These were small concerns, though, so he tried not to worry about them too much. That morning, a feeling of normal wasn't the only new sensation. He was also happy. He couldn't remember the last time he felt like that. He didn't try to figure it out, as the exercise would be depressing and ruin everything. The last few weeks, with the gradual release of his usual anxieties, were great for his writing, too. He’d put the finishing touches on the script rewrite earlier that week, firing it off to Jason. He'd also sketched out two strong plots for Dr. Kane stories, with a third that seemed on the tip of his brain. Davis laid in bed for a little while longer before he decided to get up. He ambled to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a shower. Then, he stood in front of his closet looking for a good outfit for a soccer game. He settled on some jeans and a plain gray t-shirt with plans to find a Timbers shirt at some point that day. He then grabbed his cigarettes from the counter and instinctively made his way to the diner. He was now a bonafide regular at Arturo’s. The servers all knew him, his narrow selection of “usuals,” and that he was not chatty but personable. He’d gotten to know, superficially, most of the staff at the diner, as well. When he walked in, he was surprised and happy to see Kathryn working the tables around his usual spot. She’d been the most curious about him of the other servers. This ironically made him more comfortable. He’d be able to answer questions about his tattoos and his work. She asked about his arm sleeve. “It is actually three different tattoos” and “It’s not that painful, but the longer sessions are tough.” He was able to ask if she had any. "A pie on my hip” and “No, I’m not showing you.” Kathryn was also the most curious about what he was typing. She caught a glimpse of his computer screen early on and recognized the script format. He said what he could about his most recent project. He also offered vague and unexciting details about his writing career. He was reluctant to share his pen name or the titles of the books he'd written and she didn't seem to mind. After the sat down, they exchanged pleasantries. She confirmed his usual and put in his order of a waffle, bacon—extra crispy, and fruit in. Then, she came with his coffee and water. “Do you go to many soccer games here?” he asked as she turned to leave. “The Timbers?” she responded, turning back. “Yeah, a few. It’s a great time.” “I’m going for the first time. Do you know where I can get a shirt?” Kathryn set the coffee pot down on the table. She then looked out the window as if surveying the whole of Portland. Her lips adorably pursed as she contemplated the best place to get a shirt. “Basic? Or do you want to look like a diehard?” she asked after a minute. Davis had not expected the question but responded, “I just want to blend in.” “Okay, well there’s nothing around here, then. If you want a basic shirt, you could hit the Dick’s Sporting Goods off 213. There is also a Big 5 or something like that up the road from there.” “Thanks,” he responded, though she recognized a look as if he had more questions. “Let me check in on my other tables and I can answer any other questions you have.” This took a little longer than anticipated. Ronnie from the kitchen had brought Davis’ food to the table. He’d eaten most of it before Kathryn sidled into the booth across from him. “Sorry about that. I have a few minutes,” she said. “What do you want to know?” After a pause, she hedged on her knowledge. “I’ve only been to a few games with some friends, so I don’t know everything, but I can get you there and back in one piece.” She smiled and he reciprocated. After swallowing the last bite of waffle, he wiped his mouth and asked his questions. “What’s the best way to get there? I assume getting a Lyft or Uber after the game would probably be a pain in the ass.” “Well, you could take a couple different buses there, but they do have bike parking if you want to do that. Where are you meeting your friends?” “I’m going on my own. Most of the people I know in Portland have a funeral to go to. I don’t know the guy, so…” he trailed off, but felt it adequately answered the question. “That leads me to the other question I have. Is there a place to sell an extra ticket? Or do you know anyone that wants it? I don’t really care about the money.” Kathryn sat back in the seat. A look of intrigue crossed her face as she contemplated taking the ticket for herself. She knew how big this game was and that the atmosphere was going to be amazing. Yet, she really didn’t know Davis and certainly didn’t want him thinking it was a date. “Let me think. I may know someone,” she replied. Davis noticed a slight mischievous look cross her face. She had bit the lower right part of her lip as her eyes darted to the side in thought. She’d then quickly risen from her seat and darted into the kitchen area Davis did not think much of it. He assumed she was either talking to someone back there or reaching out to someone who may want the ticket. He slumped easily into his seat, took a drink of coffee and looked out the window. He relaxed while observing the early morning activity of the street outside. Moments later, her return startled him from his trance. He watched as she sat back down, a little tense but trying to appear loose. “I’ll go,” she said matter-of-factly and as if the product of great deliberation. Davis thought there was a little, "since you twisted my arm," in her expression, but he didn't mind. “Great,” Davis responded with a smile, sitting up in his seat. “Just so you know, I have a boyfriend,” she lied. He figured that seemed like a reasonable thing to say. This being framed as a date hadn’t crossed his mind at all, but he was not oblivious to the fact that she could see it that way. A flicker of thought did cross his mind, “Holy shit, I could’ve used this as a way to get a date.” He didn’t really have any prospects, so he dismissed the thought as fast as it had come. “Okay,” he said. “I can drop the ticket off later this morning.” Kathryn looked confused and gave him a cockeyed look. “We can go together if you want,” she said, slowly realizing he had not considered that an option, “like... as friends.” “Great,” Davis blurted out, excited that it was an option. He thought Kathryn was nice and seemed cool, so this was a great outcome. He was only a customer, so he did not consider that she'd be interested in hanging out. “Well then,” he continued without giving much consideration to the end of his sentence. “Do you want to drive?” she asked. “We can meet here.” “I don’t drive,” he said. “Oh, that’s right. You ride and do public transit. That’s cool” “Yeah, well that, and I never learned.” Kathryn’s attention perked up and Davis regretted saying it as the words left his mouth. He knew it sounded weird. For her part, Kathryn didn’t know how old he was. She assumed mid-20s, so the idea that he never learned how to drive seemed odd. “I just...” he started, “I had the chance to learn, but I never needed to and didn’t care to. Now, it’s, well, unnecessary,” he finished. This was true. He was given the opportunity for a form of driver’s education when he was in juvie. The offer came at a bad time for him, mentally, and he rejected the chance out-of-hand. It was a form of rebellion, and he never felt the need to revisit it. “That’s cool,” she reassured him. “I can drive. Do you want to meet here around 5:30?” He agreed and she grabbed his phone from the table. When the screen came alive, she held it in front of Davis. His face was not recognized right away, so he punched in his six-digit passcode. He wasn’t completely sure what she was doing, but he really wanted to be cool until the “not driving” thing left the air. “So,” she said, hammering away on the screen. “I just texted myself, so we have each other’s numbers in case anything comes up.” She finished and handed him back his phone with a smile. “Sounds good,” he said, taking the phone and returning a smile of his own. Kathryn started to rise. “Did you need anything else,” she asked, motioning to his empty plate, glass and mug. “Nope. All set.” “Cool,” she replied, stacking the dishes to take them away. “I’ll be right back with the check then.” She returned moments later, and the transaction was quickly wrapped up. “See you tonight,” he offered as he left the diner. She responded with a smile and “See you then” as she completed the sale at the register. Davis was equal parts nervous and excited. It was a nice energy that lifted him as he walked home. He opted to capitalize on it with a bike ride. The whole time he was buzzing about going to “the game” with a friend. This made him a little more outgoing on his ride. He smiled at other riders a little more. He even uncharacteristically made small talk when he took a break. He was hoping people would ask if he had plans for that night. He could non-chalantly mention that he and a friend had tickets to the Timbers/Sounders game. It was about 4:30 that afternoon when he started to get nervous about the game. "What are they going to talk about? I'm going to be alone with a borderline stranger for, like, FOUR HOURS." He’s a weirdo with no past before five years ago. He also had very little to talk about his current life—no family, no real friends. Every fact about his life, in the wrong light, just sounded weird. He never learned how to drive? At his age? Jesus fucking Christ! What did he get himself into?!? Davis was nauseous with anxiety as he approached the diner. He was a few minutes early because he could not sit in his apartment staring at the ceiling in dread anymore. He spent the walk making a mental list of current events and interests to discuss. When the diner was in view, he looked down and eyed at his brand-new Timbers shirt. It was gray and looked distressed with the logo worn to look retro. Not only did he like it, it was also the first shirt he saw at the store. For the love of God, he just really wanted to fit in. As he considered whether to wait inside or not, the diner door opened, and Kathryn emerged. She was pulling on her light hoodie over a plain gray t-shirt. She smiled when she saw Davis. “I’m parked just around the corner,” she said, motioning for Davis to follow her. “Fuck it, I’m going to make a friend,” he said to himself in an inaudible pep talk. He smiled and decided to let it all go. Davis asked her how her shift ended as they walked to her car, and they went to the game.