Davis exited the train station and found an alcove where he would have a cigarette. It was his first cigarette since Sacramento. The nicotine from the first drag brought with it a buzz. Whenever he quit smoking or had to abstain, that first cigarette back was satisfying. He leaned against the side of the building, tilted his head back and savored the sensation.

A slow-moving green Nissan Altima reminded him that he was waiting for a car. To be exact, he was waiting for a... he checked his phone... a green Nissan Altima. He dropped his cigarette, quickly stamped it out, and waved to the driver. He raced to throw the butt in a nearby garbage can and collect his belongings. He dropped his suitcases in the trunk and remembered to compare his license plate with the car app. He then tossed his backpack into the back seat and slid in beside it.

The driver wound through downtown Portland on his way to the vacation rental. After 20 minutes, the Altima pulled up in front of a two-story craftsman house. He would be staying in a guest house in the back, which was barely visible from the driveway.

With his bags in tow, Davis headed to the front door for the agreed-upon check-in process. He was greeted by a man he suspected was the husband of the woman he spoke with on the phone.

"You must be Davis."

The man was Black with short hair, gold-wire glasses and a friendly demeanor. He was 5-foot-7 with a stocky build. He extended his hand and identified himself as Kevin, Andie's partner, and then led Davis around back.

"It's always a treat getting a last-minute booking for this place," Kevin said, casually. "It's always clean and ready to go. A great little place. Seems a shame when it's empty."

"You have a nice house," Davis offered back. "Looks like a great area too."

"It is," Kevin said, unlocking the front door to the guest house. "As you saw in the description, very walkable," he added while standing aside to allow Davis to enter first.

"As you can see here, not much of a tour is necessary for a studio," Kevin said, following him in. "It's small, but a nice place to unwind at the end of a day. The bed is comfortable. You everything you need to work on the desk there. The TV is connected to our streaming apps."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it."

"So, what brings you to Portland?"

"Moving here, actually. I'm looking at some apartments in the area."

"Ah, right. Andie mentioned something about that. We've lived here for 12 years, so if you have any questions, let us know. Our cell phone numbers are on the desk over there next to the WIFI password. Andie works from home and is a good first call. Feel free to text me during the day and I can help out when time allows. Otherwise..."

He trailed off and dropped the keys in Davis' hands.

"Nice meeting you, thanks," Davis replied.

The two men exchanged one last smile and Kevin returned to the main house.

When the door closed, Davis put his bags down and collapsed on the sofa. He surveyed the room, which was true to the pictures online. There was a TV to the left of the door with a coffee table and sofa. Behind him was the bed and kitchenette. A small bathroom with a nicely tiled shower stall was on the other side of the bed.

Small, but nice.

The clock said 5:25 p.m. when Davis considered plans for getting to his apartment appointment. He figured it may be harder to get a car in a residential neighborhood, so he decided to walk. He pulled out his phone to see how far of a walk it would be. When he plugged in the address he was pleasantly surprised to see it was only an eight-minute walk. He then zoomed in on the map to look at the surrounding neighborhood. There was a nice variety of food options—Chinese, Pizza, Indian. There was also a diner that touted great hamburgers and an all-day breakfast on its website. He also saw some stores and a coffee shop that would meet his lifestyle needs.

"Fuuuuck," Davis said aloud in a drawn-out, approving manner when he was done looking at the area. He was surprised with how lucky he was, as he was getting excited about his new city. He just hoped the apartment was not a dump. The apartment was a bit of a risk. The only pictures on the ad were of the view, which was a nice picture of the city over some adjacent buildings. On the map's street view, he was able to see the exterior of the building and that it was above the Chinese restaurant.

He set out from the guesthouse with 20 minutes allotted for the eight-minute walk. He wanted to make a good first impression, but there was also a fear of falling asleep that motivated him.

He stepped out into the sweet-smelling spring air and took a deep breath at the end of the driveway. He turned left and traversed a rather steep hill downwards to the main street. The route took him past many of the places he'd seen on the map. The mixture of food smells complemented each other in a way that seemingly defied reason. He also noted the amount of foot traffic on an early Wednesday evening and found a greater appeal.

After a convenience store and bike shop, he saw a narrow road that was his next turn. Once there, he saw the Chinese restaurant. Its neon red sign spelling out "The Mandarin" illuminated the road.

He pulled up the email from the landlord for reference and entered the restaurant. The interior was reminiscent of most Chinese restaurants he had frequented. Conversation and clanging silverware at the few occupied tables created a murmur. At the hostess stand, he looked around but did not see anyone that worked there. After a couple of minutes, a slightly harried man approached the stand. He was Asian with a lined stern face that looked to be in his mid-70's. He was slightly taller than Davis, which he attributed to great posture for a man of his age.

"Hi. I'm looking for," Davis started, looking at his phone again, "Paul Lee?"

"You must be Davis," the man said with a deep, authoritative voice, but also with a hint of a west coast accent. "I'm Paul. It's nice to meet you."

Davis was taken aback. He felt sheepish about it, but he really expected an Asian accent. He wanted to attribute it to his knowledge of immigration patterns of the west coast, as well as the man's age. He feared it was an attitude that may not fit with his new, more progressive and inviting city. He hoped his face did not register any surprise that would offend the man. Paul was unphased. When the two men shook hands the man's stern expression turned to genuine warmth.

Davis smiled back and offered, "You too."

"Let me show you the apartment," he said. He looked back in the kitchen area and shouted, "Cassie, I'm taking someone to see the apartment. Keep an eye on the front."

"Will do!" came from the back.

"Right this way," Paul offered, letting Davis lead the way.

The two men exited the building through the front and entered a door just to the left of The Mandarin's storefront. Paul unlocked the door and led Davis up the stairs. At the landing, Paul explained the layout of the building.

"This is the office for the restaurant. The studio is the only apartment on this level. There are two more apartments upstairs."

Davis nodded and Paul continued on to the studio. He unlocked the door and let Davis enter ahead of him. The lights were off, but the room was well lit. There were two banks of large windows on the front facade of the building, opposite the entry. To the left was a kitchen area, whose window led to a fire escape, and was opposite a bathroom. That was the lone identifiable space, as the rest of the empty studio was bare. A light smile came over Davis' face as he took in the interesting features of the space. The walls were all dark brick, the floor a well-worn wood. From the doorway, he could see he envisioned the open space to the right as the living room area. That led to an alcove that opened around the corner next to the door. This looked like a natural bedroom space and faced the big windows, which he liked.

He could see why it was available. The price was a little high and the smell of the restaurant wafted in easily. He could tell it would be pretty drafty. It was bigger than he expected and looked pretty cool.

Davis did his due diligence and surveyed the entire studio, checking out the bathroom. He ran the faucets, he turned on the lights. It would definitely work for him, and he was hoping to get it.

"So, is there a lot of interest in the place?" he said, attempting to hide his interest in case there was bargaining to be done.

"Some people now and then. It's been empty for about two months."

"What was the cost, again?"

"Well, we list it at $1,000 a month, but it's actually $750 with no utilities and a 25% discount at the restaurant downstairs."

Davis smiled and Paul smiled back.

"Our biggest concern is people being able to pay for the place. If you can pay $1,000, $750 is a breeze. I also don't like lookey-loos. If you're interested, I have the time. If not, I am a busy guy."

"Makes sense," Davis responded, nodding. "I'm going to be honest, I really like the place. What do you need from me for an application?"

"I will run a credit check. As you saw, our office is right outside your door. If you have plans for any shady dealings or dangerous activities, you'll be out on your ass."

"Fair," Davis offered. "I assure you; I have no plans to do anything 'shady or dangerous,'" he added with a smile, but resisted the urge for air quotes.

"What do you do for a living?"

"I write," he replied, recognizing a concerned look in relation to a steady income. "I've had a handful of books published and I also get steady work writing for other people," he quickly added. "I write about six days a week and keep to myself, mostly."

"Sounds good. If you move in, we'll have to chat more about that," Paul said approvingly. "But, for now," he looked at his watch, "I need to get back downstairs. We should be picking up in the dining room."

The manager allowed Davis to pass first, flicked off the lights, and locked up. Davis waited at the top of the stairs and allowed Paul to lead the way. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, he saw that business at the restaurant had indeed picked up.

Paul told Davis what information he needed and payment details. Davis agreed to email the manager later that night. Paul would then follow up in the next few days.

Before parting ways, Paul offered him a complimentary dinner. Davis could not refuse, even if it meant a second-straight night of Chinese food for dinner. The two men re-entered the restaurant and Davis was greeted by a young Asian woman at the hostess stand. Paul waved goodbye as their paths diverged. Paul entered the kitchen area and Davis found a small table in the corner of the dining room.

Davis enjoyed orange chicken, fried rice, and a couple of egg rolls on the house before heading out. He kept an eye out for Paul as he left. He hoped to thank him for the meal, but settled for a 'thanks' and a wave extended to the young hostess.

On the way back to Kevin and Andie's guest house he explored

the neighborhood further. He arrived before 10 p.m. and fired off a quick email to Paul with the requested information. He then kicked off his shoes and laid on the bed to think about a whirlwind couple of days.

With the walking and fresh air, he had little trouble falling asleep. Kevin was right, it was a really comfortable bed.