Davis struggled to process the emotions and thoughts of his day so far. The ride from the hospital felt like it took mere moments, and he cannot recall the short walk to his apartment. Without many people to confide in, he felt like he was being crushed under the weight of it all. He hoped a bike ride would clear his mind. The freedom of a long ride and the ability to explore the surrounding areas was exhilarating. The beauty of the Pacific Northwest was lost on him as a kid, but he had a newfound appreciation for it now. For three hours, he made his way to and through Forest Park. He traversed the same trails he’d grown accustomed to already. He also branched off in new directions hoping to take his mind off the issues of the day. Fresh air and beautiful weather failed to do the trick for Davis. He returned home exhausted and sweaty but still bothered. After a quick shower and a fresh change of clothes, he headed to the restaurant downstairs for dinner. He’d contemplated opening up to Paul about what was bothering him. His landlord was easy to talk to and offered a fatherly authority on matters. That said, he’d never sought advice before. Well, he’d never sought advice past suggestions for a good pizza restaurant before. As he ate his orange chicken, he kept an eye out for Paul. He did not emerge from the back. Each server, hostess and busboy responded to his expectant looks with polite smiles. Davis was a regular at the restaurant. The good food and a discount certainly helped. He didn't linger very much and, as such, he did not know many of the people that worked there. Not like Arturo's, where he typically loitered twice as long as it took him to eat. He did linger after eating and paying for about a half-hour before conceding he would not see his Paul on this trip. He wasn’t likely to say anything anyway, he realized. How could he? He’d have to tell the manager of his apartment building about his past. His relatively lax background check didn't turn up that Davis had been incarcerated. How would he respond to the news now? “Don’t worry, I assure you, I’m innocent,” he could offer, as though “Yeah, I did it, but that was SO long ago” was an option. No one looks more guilty to people than the man that says he’s innocent. Either way, he’d be out on his ass by the end of the next day. The life he’d begun building would also be thrown into disarray—at best. At worst, it would be blown up. His secret, he constantly worried, would be enough to destroy any friendship. Not being upfront about it, he assumed, would make sure of it. Davis left the restaurant and started off on a walk as the sun started to set. It was a nice night for a walk, but his legs did not have the energy for a long trek. After a couple blocks of aimless wandering, he sat down on a nearby bench. He looked around and enjoyed the sights and smells of the oncoming night while giving his legs a break. A subconscious thought took control of his body. Before he knew it, he’d taken his phone from his pocket and started texting. “Any good pies today? You ever sample your own supply?” He didn’t give it a second thought as he hit ‘send.’ He’d made a joke about the high quality of Kathryn’s pies before and her being his drug dealer, well “pie dealer." Also, he’d never seen her or heard her mention eating the pies she’d made. It made sense. If you thought about it. He was thinking about it. A self-satisfied smirk replaced the looks of despondency and concern he’d had most of the day. He was also looking at his phone when he got a reply. “Studying at the diner. Come and find out.” His mood improved as he leapt to his feet and turned in the direction of the diner. His legs hurt a little less as he made his way to the corner. He went down a block, through an alley and around another corner to the diner. Davis felt a knot in his stomach and his concerns came crashing back as he reached the door. He forgot for a moment why he’d texted Kathryn in the first place. He was no longer in the mood at all for pie as he entered the diner and turned towards her usual booth. She wasn’t there. “Davis,” came a shout from over his shoulder. When he turned, Kathryn was waving to him from another table. She was wearing a half-buttoned gray work shirt with a “Len” name patch sewn on the chest. In front of her was a textbook, a notebook and two plates with pie on them. “I’ve been here a while and there were people in my spot,” Kathryn said. She side-eyed a booth on the other side of the diner and feigned irritation. It was as if to say, "The nerve of those customers sitting in my seat! What if I wanted to sit there to study?" Davis returned her smile with his own weak offering. There was a continuous ebb and flow of worry in his stomach. He felt good for a moment again and the sight of a slice of strawberry pie looked good. Davis was hungry again as he sat down. His mind also cleared somewhat, as well. He’d looked to a friend for someone to talk to. Simply being across from her was putting him at ease. “Strawberry?” he asked, slicing off the tip of the slice. “Strawberry pineapple,” she corrected, smiling proudly and doing the same. His hand paused as he looked. He saw deep yellow pieces of pineapple interspersed with the bright red strawberries. He was almost in awe, while she dug right into her piece. As she chewed, a smile widened on her face. Kathryn watched his expression as he put the pie in his mouth. Once he closed his teeth around the filling, his eyes closed. He savored the sweet and tart mixture on his taste buds. Chewing revealed the crispy crust and saltiness that accentuated all the flavors. He sat back and forgot his problems for a moment. “Wow,” he said with exasperation in his voice. “I know, right,” she said excitedly, taking another bite. The two did not speak as they continued eating their pie. He offered regular grunts of delight with each bite, and she beamed with a little more pride each time. “Is there any more,” he asked when they’d both cleaned their plates. “I wish,” she responded. “This was the first pie to go. I had to make a deal with my uncle to save these two slices.” “You knew I’d be here?” “I’d hoped,” she said. “I wanted to get your opinion.” “Well,” he started and, after a dramatic pause, continued, “that was fucking delicious.” Her smile was effervescent. The two sat back and had some small talk over her inspiration for the pie. It turned out it was as simple as a friend giving her a drink of her strawberry and pineapple smoothie. It had taken five tries before Kathryn was able to get the recipe right. “How was your day?” she asked after a lull in the conversation. Davis immediately tensed and his stomach felt uneasy almost instantaneously. “Uhhhh,” he started, looking for the right words to start. "Complicated." At this point, he was becoming more and more comfortable with the idea of ignoring it all. Grit his teeth and bear it all. Take the kidney, but leave my new life alone. This moment would be so uncomplicated. He liked it. It was the best part of his new life. “Is everything okay,” she asked. She could see the growing consternation on his face. Everyone has good and bad days and she’d seen him on one or two of his self-described “bad days.” This was different. This scared her. He couldn’t find the words to respond, and she attempted to lean towards him over the table. He refused to make eye contact, first lowering his gaze a bit. Then, he realized he was now staring at her slightly exposed cleavage. He quickly looked down at the table. He scratched an imaginary itch on the back of his head to justify the evasiveness. She did not notice any lingering gaze but adjusted her work shirt out of habit. She tried again to coax the problem out of Davis. “Hey, you’re starting to scare me,” she said. “What’s wrong?” He took a deep breath and rolled through the ways to express the issue. He then responded without full consideration of what he was saying. “I was invited to a wedding?” he responded as if he was asking a question, rather than answering one. Kathryn sat back and gave a short chuckle in relief. She’d been worried it was something so much worse, but this wasn’t so much bad as, maybe, awkward or just a bad feeling. “Ex-girlfriend or something?” she asked innocently. “Or something,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper, still not making eye contact. He was appearing more and more shell-shocked which put her back on edge a bit. She tried to make him feel better and lighten the mood a bit to coax the problem from him over time. “What a coincidence,” she said cheerfully. “I’m going to a wedding this weekend back in Seattle.” Davis’ expression worsened, but he was now able to make eye contact with Kathryn. He was looking at her as if she had divined the information from his brain. “A friend of mine growing up,” she continued, now a little nervous. “It’s crazy to think I already have friends that are getting married. I mean, I think there were some ultra-religious kids I went to high school with that got married right away. Jenna is a lot more like me, though.,” she paused as the evolving look on Davis’ face was borderline terrified. The conversation was being innocently thrust upon Davis. It was like being in a runaway car with no way of stopping. He was worried about being overly paranoid, so he took a moment to compose himself. Kathryn stared at him. She analyzed his every muscle twitch. She hoped to pick up something about what was bothering him. After steadying himself with a deep breath, he asked, “What’s your friend’s name?” She was nervous to respond, but said, “Jenna Collins.” Davis now looked like he was going to be sick, and he felt like that, as well. He got up from the table without a word, took measured breaths, and quickly walked to the bathroom. Kathryn watched him worried, turning in her seat to see him the whole way to the bathroom. She remained in that position hoping he would return soon. Once in the bathroom, Davis locked the door and his arms straddled the sink. He couldn’t bear to look at himself in the mirror and decided to splash cold water on his face. He remained hunched over, letting the cold-water drip from his wet face and hair. The decision seemed to come rather quickly. He wiped the water from his face with his hands and ran his wet hands through his hair. What water was left; he shook off wildly. Avoiding the mirror again, he turned and unlocked the door. He exited the room slowly and looked to his left. Unable to see the booth he was in, and Kathryn in it, he pivoted to the right and left the restaurant through the back door. He had no plan for later, but, for now, he was running away.