Davis had closed his eyes once his head hit the window. It seemed instantaneous, but he awoke as the train was pulling out of Chemult, Oregon. It was the best night's sleep he enjoyed in years. He slept without sleeping pills or anti-anxiety medication—a rarity that was not lost on him.

A "Welcome to" sign was among the first this he saw when he awoke. From that he learned that Chemult was home to about 300 people. On Wikipedia he saw it was also a great destination for "hiking, snowmobiling, cross-country skiing, dog sled racing, fishing, and hunting." With that, he put his phone away.

He turned his focus to the morning views of the Pacific Northwest without a care in the world.

An obtrusive song broke the silence of the car.

Davis received an uncomfortable amount of attention as he fumbled for his phone. Passengers looked around in search of the random music. Davis silenced his phone and almost forgot it was signaling an incoming call. He waved apologetically to the other passengers and answered a call from his editor. He regretted trying out an audible ringtone and opted to return his device to silent mode as soon as he was able.

"Hello?"

"Davis! How're you doing today?" said an enthusiastic voice on the other end. It was Jason Long, his editor, and pseudo agent.

"Well, things are looking up," he said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

"Good to hear. Good to hear. I'm calling with good news. A couple of projects have hit my desk that scream, 'Davis Archer."

"Jason," Davis interrupted, "I just woke up, let's dial back the 'wheeler and dealer' schtick."

"Sorry, man. I get a little too excited sometimes. I'm not too worried about your deadlines coming up—you always hit your deadlines. But, I have some new projects. They may be 'start sooner rather than later' jobs if you know what I mean. What's your capacity at the moment?"

"Shit," he thought.

"I did not write a word yesterday," he said. "I'm mean I'm good on my current deadlines, but I can't take anything else on for at least a week. I'm moving to Portland and I need to get situated."

"Portland? Like, Oregon?"

"Yeah. I decided this morning and I'm on a train there now," Davis offered. He winced immediately at sharing this information. It's not embarrassing to move to Portland. He was sure dozens of people had done it. Moving to another state on a whim is weird, though. Right? It has to be weird. Is it alarmingly weird?

"That's cool, man. Portland's great. I've been there a couple times."

It turned out to not be as weird as Davis thought.

"The freedom of remote work, Davis, I bet it's like nothing else," Jason continued. "When you get situated with an address and whatnot, let me know. I'd like to send a house-warming gift."

"Thanks, Jason. That's really nice and unexpected."

"Hey, you make my job easy. You work hard, you ask for little and you never complain. I like to think I have a bit to do with that last part, though."

Davis pictured Jason pantomiming a jocular elbowing motion to emphasize that last point. He chuckled to himself.

"I appreciate everything you guys do for me. So, these jobs, can any of them wait a week or two to get started?"

"One, uhhh, hmph. The one person wants to meet end of this week, but I can pass that one to someone else. The person is high maintenance. It pays well, but you don't need the aggravation while moving and working on a couple other things."

"Thanks. The other?"

"Movie script. No rush to start, I guess, but you'd have about a few weeks to turn around a draft. Pays decent, not as much as the others, but it looks like it could get made, which will be cool. It's not horrible. The producer just wants to take it in another direction. He's trying to cultivate this screenwriter. I dunno, it's a whole 'situation' over there. They appreciate your discretion and your expertise."

"Sounds good. I've got about five more hours on the train. You can send it my way and I'll take a look. I'll have an answer for you by lunchtime."

"Great. This one came through our office's official channels, so I'll be taken care of." Jason would often field calls or find jobs for Davis that were "outside official channels." In these cases, Davis usually offered Jason an unofficial commission.

Jason finished, "I'll send it when we get off the phone. I have to get going. Safe travels, man. We'll be in touch!"

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Thanks again. Have a good one."

Davis hung up the phone and immediately changed his phone to silent mode. He liked the challenge of script work, so he was looking forward to taking a look at the script from Jason. He decided to grab something to eat from the dining car before checking his email.

He grabbed his backpack and set off in search of the dining car. He'd been in such a hurry when he boarded, he had no idea where he was on the train and no idea where he needed to go. He was standing in the aisle weighing his options. He noticed a middle-aged couple sitting across from each other. They had coffee and some crumbs from a pastry of some sort on the tray in front of them.

"Pardon me," Davis said to the couple, rather than one of them in particular. "Do you know where the dining car is?"

"You want to head that way," the man said, gesturing to the back of the train. "It's two cars down."

Davis thanked the couple and headed to the back of the train. Each car was sparsely populated. There was a handful of passengers in the next car and about a half dozen more in the dining car. He picked out a poppy seed muffin, a bottled coffee drink and an orange. After paying, he headed in the general direction of his seat. He kept a lookout for a better spot, but eventually settled back into his previous seat. It was already on the west side of the train, and he liked the views of that side, so far anyway.

He was a lot less reliant on his phone than other people his age. He was content looking out the window as he ate or went from place to place on trains and buses and in cabs. Extremely limited social media and minimal contacts did not hurt either. It was 15 minutes after he'd eaten his muffin and orange that Davis remembered to check his email.

There were four emails waiting for him, including the screenplay and notes from Jason. Another was Jason's first attempt to send, which had no attachment. The other messages were a confirmation from his vacation rental and appointment to view an apartment. He was able to shore up lodgings for the next week over the phone. He then locked in an apartment viewing for 6 p.m. that night.

When he turned his attention to Jason's email, the one with the attachments, he looked over the notes first. It turns out that the producer wanted to adapt a science-fiction script into a 1920's period piece. The writer had no concept of the period. Davis had a degree in history and specialized in Egyptian and early 20th century America. That laid the foundation for his fiction writing. This job was right in his wheelhouse and that thought brought a smile to his face.

Before he moved on to the script, he realized the notes had a second page. He looked it over and was surprised to see that the producer asked for him by name and offered a co-writer credit. It would be his first. He sat in awe of the attention and slowly realized that his name would be attached. This lent credibility to his novel series and excited him about the project.

He imagined Jason saying something like, "James Carrick is moving into movies." It was with his usual over-enthusiasm. Davis smiled and dug into the script.

Davis was excited. To have been sought out on the strength of his work was cool. There was a bit of ego-stroking involved, but also a potential into a more mainstream audience. The writer of the movie is heard, but does not have to be seen. He didn't daydream about walking the red carpet at award shows. That would've scared the shit out of him. He wanted the opportunity to have his work seen by millions of people.

Movies felt like a safe space for him. He often binged movies at home and in the theatre, escaping into a different world for a couple of hours. Some movies were not so much "good," but "familiar." He often rewatched the same movies and slipped into the world on screen. These were often forgotten movies that had received middling reviews. For him, it was not about the quality of the picture. He liked how he felt watching it. He wanted to feel the characters' connections, share in their emotions. It was helpful. It reminded him that he could feel that way despite years of emptiness and evidence to the contrary.

These feelings also made him a better writer. He was able to pour the thoughts and feelings he wasn't able to express into his writing. Dr. Kane was a loner but had trusted allies in almost every city and village. Women were available and interested, but he didn't let them get attached. There were father figures and sidekicks. Kane felt loss when someone close to him died and fought like hell to save everyone the bad guys targeted to get to him.

Every world he created was influenced by Davis' own experience and desires. They still offered the same escape and glimpse of hope that movies afforded him. Kane escaped his own isolation into adventures that were filled with what he was missing. Writing about these adventures allowed Davis to escape from his isolation, as well.

As the train approached the Portland city limits, he finished his second read of the script. The first was casually on his phone. He took a break for a lunch of a tuna salad sandwich, Cool Ranch Doritos, and a Kit Kat. He then pulled out his computer and made notes as he reread the document. It was a strong story. He had some initial ideas to translate to the desired setting and made some notes for added research. Once he got started, the deadline would be a breeze. He actually lamented a bit that he would not be able to start right away.

Davis put away his computer and turned his focus out of the window to get a good look at Portland as it came to view. He was excited about a fresh start and looked forward to beginning a new life. He was much more optimistic than when he'd left Seattle five years earlier. That was running away, and this was moving towards a new adventure. He was chasing the hope that had presented itself to him. He had spent too much time expecting it to find him.

To make the most of his new chance, he resolved to change his lifestyle, as well. It was depressing he was able to move to a new state on a whim. No one was going to miss him in California. No friends or family left behind wondering where he'd gone.

Davis couldn't do much about the family, but he could make an effort to make friends. He was not a forward or outgoing person, so it was going to be difficult. But, if he could make a few connections—even just some acquaintances to start—it could make a big difference. Not eating alone every night, he thought, would be a nice change of pace.

It wouldn't be easy. He'd spent a lot of energy to be forgettable to most people and at times worked to not make connections. He was going to be himself and, if that opened opportunities to connect, he'd stop running from them.

When the train came to a stop, he grabbed his bags and joined the small queue of passengers in his car to disembark. He followed the crowd through the terminal and, eventually out of the front doors. He brought his belongings to the side of the entrance and pulled out his phone to get a car. After plugging in his destination details, he found a six-minute wait for his ride.