It started innocently enough.

Marsha came in to the upstairs office to make her usual rounds. She dusted and then started emptying the garbage cans. She always liked to start in the back and work her way forward, finally ending with the reception desk. She picked up that last bag, and heaved it over her shoulder. As she headed to the pile she had made out in the hall, she tripped over something, probably one of those toys that was always on the floor near the boss's office, and dropped the bag. It promptly burst open, scattering papers everywhere. Embarrassed and sprawled on the floor she couldn't help but notice the vivid blue ink and curly script that was inches away from her nose. She rolled over in a pile of paper and picked the page up for a closer look. There were intricate abstract doodles in the margins and it was covered with crossed-out sentences, but the words that remained were riveting. Sitting down on the little couch next to her, she began to read. No one will mind, she thought, after all it was in the trash.

Dear Jim,

It seems strange to be writing to you while I'm looking at the back of your head, but I couldn't figure out any other way to tell you how I'm feeling. I miss you. I miss you so much. I miss being able to talk to you about everything or nothing or whatever. I just miss...you. I guess since I know I'll never actually give you this letter I might as well tell you a few more things while I'm at it.

Jim, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you that I hadn't gone through with the wedding. You have no idea how much I wanted to call you and tell you everything. But, I just couldn't. When you left I didn't know what to do. I didn't know where we stood. I didn't even know if you would have wanted me to call, even if I hadn't been so afraid to. I tried talking to my Mom about everything, but she didn't really get it. I don't think anyone has ever understood me the way you do. Or, I guess the way you did.

The letter ended there. As she began cleaning up the mess she had made Marsha told herself to just stuff that page right back into the garbage bag, but for some reason she didn't. Instead she carefully folded it up and slipped it into her pocket. As she heard the rest of the crew coming in to help with the bathrooms and the vacuuming, she sheepishly rolled her eyes at her own actions. "You're a hopeless romantic" she thought.

The crew only cleaned the Dunder-Mifflin office twice a week. Wednesdays and Saturdays. It had been a Saturday night when Marsha had quite literally stumbled her way onto that first letter. She hadn't really known what to do with it when she got home. It seemed wrong to keep something that was obviously very personal and belonged to someone she'd never met.

She thought about trying to return it to the receptionist, whoever she was. That seemed unwise, though, since she'd probably been trying to get rid of the letter by throwing it in the garbage. Getting it back might only upset her. Logically, the solution was to put it back in the trash. But no matter how many times Marsha had meant to do it, she just couldn't seem to throw the thing away. A couple of days later it was still sitting right where she had left it when she took it out of her pocket: on top of her dresser, neatly folded, right next to a picture of her ex-husband with their children. And a couple of nights after that when she was lying in bed trying to fall asleep and missing all of the people in that picture, she had reread it.

On Wednesday, Marsha made sure she was the first one upstairs. She wasn't sure why she was so eager to be in this office again. After all, she didn't actually know anyone who worked here. But reading that letter had made her feel like she was somehow personally involved. She dutifully dusted, and then emptied each garbage can. When she got to the receptionist's desk she told herself she was being silly. It was probably just a whim that had made the receptionist start writing that first letter. Surely, she wouldn't have done it again.

"Marsha, stop it. You shouldn't even look. You should just throw the whole bag out with the others." she said it out loud. But her voice sounded funny as she stood there all alone under the fluorescent strip lights in the middle of the night.

She tried not looking. She tried it for almost a full 30 seconds. Or maybe even longer. Finally she rationalized, well, it's just the garbage. If there was anything in there that she shouldn't see then whoever threw it out should have just kept it. Or thrown it away at home. With a sigh of resignation, she reached a gloved hand in and dug around.

There it was. A little crumpled maybe, and sure, she'd had to move a couple of other papers off the top first, but it was like the page had been calling to her. She rummaged through the rest of the garbage to make sure she hadn't missed another letter, after all it had been a few days since the can had been emptied, so it was possible there was more than one. But when she was sure that she'd checked every page and only found that one letter, she quickly tied up the bag, and dumped it into the pile in the hall. She was about to start reading when the door opened and Henni walked in to start on the kitchen and bathrooms. Marsha quickly hid the letter in her pocket and got back to work. Guilt kept her from reading the thing until she was at home in bed. It was nearly 3:30 and she was exhausted, but she couldn't fall asleep until she knew what it said.

My Jim,

I know you're not really mine, but I think I'll just pretend you are for a minute because it will make my awful day so much more bearable. I'm sitting here thinking about all the things I would do with you if you were mine, and yes, some of them are making me blush. Luckily, no one has noticed yet. In fact with my head down like this, it's pretty easy to keep my face hidden from the rest of the office. Of course, the downside of that plan is that I don't get to see you this way. Sometimes I wonder: if our desks were reversed would you spend as much time looking at me as I do looking at you? It's actually pretty pathetic how often I sneak glances at you from behind your back.

I know one thing I would definitely do if you were mine. I'd have you sit exactly where you are right now, but I'd have you do it on a Saturday or something when no one else is around and I'd sit at my desk for a minute, so that I could pretend like this was just another normal day at work and then I'd come around from behind and kiss you right on that little line of skin on the back of your neck between where your collar ends and your hair starts to do that flippy thing. I think I'd probably end up kissing you other places too, but I'd start right there.

Of course, you're not mine. So, I guess I won't get the chance to kiss

This letter ended much more abruptly, and Marsha felt even guiltier reading it than she had felt while reading the first one. As she set the letter on her nightstand and switched off the lamp she promised herself she would certainly throw away both letters in the morning.

On Saturday Marsha barely made it upstairs in time to check the receptionist's trash before the rest of the crew got there. She had spent the week deliberating about whether or not to throw out those first two letters, and although she hadn't reread them, she also hadn't been able to get rid of them. So they were still on her nightstand. She knew she was being silly and that it was really none of her business, but she also knew that tonight there wasn't time to hesitate and if she didn't act now, she wouldn't even get a chance to check and whatever was in that receptionist's garbage can would go straight to the landfill.

Not bothering with her usual system of starting with the back office, she made a beeline for the reception desk. Luckily the receptionist wasn't one of those people who put gross things in their garbage, and aside from a thoroughly scraped-out yogurt cup Marsha didn't see anything but papers. She quickly leafed through them and was rewarded with two letters, characteristically scrawled in that familiar blue ink. One was only a few lines long and the other filled almost a whole page. As she was about to start reading Marsha heard voices in the hallway. She thought about trying to sneak into the restroom to read them now, but instead decided to save them for a better time and hurriedly slipped both in her pocket. Somehow, knowing they were there waiting for her made the next few hours go by a little bit more quickly. It had been so long since she'd had something to look forward to that even just this little bit of excitement combined with the fact that she had to keep the whole thing a secret kept her on edge.

When she finally made it home she was once again exhausted, but couldn't wait to see what was in the letters. Sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water in her hand and staring at two little folded up slips of paper, she hesitated. This really wasn't right. She'd probably be furious if someone started reading her personal correspondence. Especially if it was a love letter.

A battle of wills began in Marsha's head.

"No one will ever find out"

"But it just feels wrong"

"You already have them here, you might as well read them"

"I don't have to read them. I could just throw them all away right now."

"Oh come on. You know you aren't going to throw these two away without even finding out what they say first."

"Oh fine. I'll read these two first. Then I'll throw them all away."

"Uh-huh. Sure you will."

"I will. Just watch me!"

And with that she opened the shorter of the two letters.

Jim, Jim, Jim,

Want to know something funny? Sometimes when I'm not really thinking about anything, like right as I'm falling asleep or when I'm cooking in my "one kitchen" or driving home from work all of a sudden I'll just say your name. Jim. I don't even know why.

Well, that had hardly been worth the internal battle, she thought. Although she was a little curious about the phrase "one kitchen." Maybe the next letter would prove more interesting. She opened it quickly so as to avoid going through another struggle with her conscience.

Jim,

I'm sitting here "taking notes" during Michael's conference calls, and he's driving me crazy. I would wish you were here so that we could laugh about his impression of the Numa Numa guy that he felt the need to do in the middle of a call with one of our biggest vendors, but at the moment I wouldn't wish Michael's presence on anyone. It's really bizarre how sometimes he can be such a good businessman and other times he's downright psychotic. It makes me wonder how he even-

You know what? Forget Michael. I don't really want to talk about Michael right now. What I'd rather do is say this: I wish there was some way to go back in time. I think if I could pick any night to relive it would be the one when we kissed. That probably sounds a little funny, but I swear for the longest time I hated thinking about that night because it felt like that was the night our friendship was officially over. And besides that I felt guilty about kissing you and I also felt, I don't know just confused about everything. It was painful to think about. But then I realized that if I was careful I could isolate specific moments and only think about those and not everything else that happened as a result. This is completely embarrassing, but sometimes in my head I can still hear you saying that you're in love with me and that you want to be more than just friends. And I hear it over and over. Like the way a song gets stuck in your head and you can't get it out no matter how hard you try. But the best moment to relive is that kiss. Why didn't you tell me you could kiss like that?

Sorry. I'm laughing in my head now because I'm picturing a conversation where you come up to my desk and say "Hey Pam, did you happen to know that I am a really great kisser?" I realize you'd be a lot smoother than that about it, but seriously, if I had known that it would be like that... I mean, I just... I wish that I had somehow known last year that I wouldn't end up marrying Roy, that in the end we wouldn't end up together. The truth is that I mostly stayed with him because I didn't know how not to be with him. I didn't even know my self. Roy was just always there and I couldn't imagine my life without him. I'm sorry. I know you probably don't want to hear me talk about Roy. Oh, wait you're never going to have to because you'll never actually read this. But if having to listen to me ramble on about my problems with Roy over the years was anything like what it's like for me trying to listen to you talk about Karen lately, well then you, my friend, are a saint. Then again, if talking about Karen is the only way to keep talking to you then that's what I'll do. Besides I feel like I owe it to you. You really are amazing. I hope you know that. I hope Karen tells you every day how incredible you are. Because you are. I don't know how else to say it, Jim you are... everything.

I should probably stop writing or Michael will actually expect me to remember exactly what he just told this customer. So I guess I'll just say, I miss you. Even sitting 10 feet away from you I miss you.

Your friend always,

Pam

Hm... Pam. So the receptionist's name was Pam. Interesting. Pam and Jim. She was the receptionist and Marsha had already figured out that Jim probably worked at that desk that was close to the receptionist desk, but faced the opposite wall. And they'd kissed. And he'd told her he was in love with her. But something had happened. Oh, maybe Pam had still been engaged when they'd kissed and that was why she had felt guilty about it. Yes, that made sense. And then Jim had left before she had called off the wedding and she hadn't told him. But where had he gone? And why hadn't he called Pam when he found out that she wasn't marrying Roy? Marsha picked up her glass, dumped the extra water into the sink and then loaded it into the dishwasher.

The pieces were starting to fit together. But she was still so confused as to what exactly had happened. And who was Karen? From what she could tell Karen and Jim were now involved, but how had that happened? She locked the front door and turned out the downstairs lights.

Pam's letters hadn't made Jim sound like he was the type of guy to be in love with Pam one day and then suddenly be dating someone else. But what if he was? What if Pam was throwing herself away on this guy who was ultimately just a jerk? No. That couldn't be right. They were friends, and it sounded as though they'd been friends for years. She couldn't imagine that Pam was such good friends with a jerk. Marsha was half-way up the stairs before she realized she hadn't thrown away the letters. They were still sitting on the kitchen table. Well, it was late. She'd throw them all out tomorrow.

She knew exactly where they were. Inside the blue box, under her favorite sweater, in the bottom drawer of her dresser. She knew where they were and she knew they were going to stay there. After several more nights of nagging conversations between her id and super-ego, Marsha had decided that right or wrong, she had to hold on to those letters. She wasn't sure why she was keeping them, and as a concession to her conscience she tried to reread them as infrequently as possible. Which didn't really matter since she had most of them memorized by now. And she still felt guilty whenever she caught herself trying to picture what Karen looked like or imagining when and where Jim had confessed his feelings for Pam, but truth be told she just couldn't help herself.

It had been years since she'd been this excited about the idea of two people being in love. It wasn't like she didn't believe in love. She just hadn't met many people who had managed to find it. Once, a long time ago, she had thought that she knew what it looked like, but now those thoughts were blurry and faded. Pam and Jim, though, were in clear focus.

Wednesday night's scheduled cleaning at Dunder-Mifflin didn't help anything. Luckily she wasn't yet arousing any suspicion among the rest of the crew, but it was probably only a matter of time before they figured out that she was always mysteriously the first one into the Dunder-Mifflin office.

As she headed to the reception desk she tried to keep her anticipation to a minimum. After all, there was just something pathetic in the idea of a grown woman being excited about going through someone else's trash! She checked Pam's can and happily slipped a letter into her pocket. Then, since no one else was upstairs yet she went over to the desk she was sure was Jim's. Nothing about it was out of the ordinary, except for being a little more devoid of personality than some of the others in the office.

She glanced at a few papers he'd left on top. More than anything she wanted to open the drawers and see if she could come up with any clues as to whether or not he still had feelings for Pam, or to see if perhaps he had a picture of himself, or of Karen. But sneaking letters out of a person's garbage was one thing, and rifling through a closed drawer was another. Going through private property wasn't a line Marsha was willing to cross just yet, no matter how sorely she was tempted. She reached down to grab Jim's trash bag and add it to the one from Pam's desk that she still had in her hand. That's when it hit her. Maybe, just maybe, Jim had left a clue in his trash just like Pam had been doing! She quickly lifted the bag up to get a better look, and that's when the door opened.

"Marsha? What are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing, I...uh...um... I just thought I saw something. But I didn't. So I'm gonna go get rid of this now."

"Okay." Henni smiled a little at the guilty look on Marsha's face. "Whatever," she muttered as Marsha passed her on her way to the door. Marsha had been acting a little funny lately, but it seemed like it was a change for the better so as long as it didn't involve anything illegal, and Henni was fairly certain Marsha wasn't that type, she wouldn't be one to interfere.

Marsha managed to make it home without raising any more suspicions. She closed the door behind her, sank into the biggest, oldest, and most comfy chair in her living room and read.

Dear person who makes me laugh harder than anyone in the world,

Dwight just asked me what women like better: sex or chocolate. I told him it depends on the person they're having sex with. And then I ran into the bathroom to throw up at the thought of Dwight having sex. Okay, so I'm kidding about the throwing up part, not that I didn't want to. By the way, I was right about Dwight and Angela!!! I was right and you were wrong! Suck on that Halpert!

Sincerely,

the girl you'd really rather be with (at least according to my mom)

P.S. In case you were wondering, if the guy was you, I'd definitely prefer the sex. Although, sex with chocolate involved also sounds like an appealing option!

Marsha's cheeks were scarlet after reading that P.S. She hadn't expected Pam to be quite so uninhibited, but then she remembered that Pam had surely convinced herself that no one would ever be reading what she'd written. Marsha paused for a moment reflecting on the few times in her life when she could have actually written a letter like that. Then she smiled and took the letter upstairs to add it to her collection.

Saturday yielded three more letters, and Marsha was practically giddy about the prospect of reading them. But once again she was interrupted before she had a chance to check Jim's garbage thoroughly. The only thing she did manage to find were some notes from a sales call that were in his handwriting. Still, the three letters in her pocket kept her from feeling discouraged and the rest of her shift seemed to fly by. It was a quarter to four by the time she settled herself into her favorite chair. She tried to calm down so that she could fully savor the experience of reading the letters, but those vivid blue, curlicued words were calling to her, and she just couldn't resist. She was about to open one when she realized that she had no way of knowing which of the three letters had been written first. So she decided to mix them up and then pick one at random. Closing her eyes, she dropped the papers in her lap and felt around for one. When she opened them again the smallest of the three letters was in her hands.

Jim,

It's 4:08 on Friday afternoon. Time has effectively died. But it's a slow, painful, agonizing death. I'm so bored of everything. Solitaire, Su Doku, nothing sounds appealing. All I can do is stare at your neck. But not in a creepy vampire way, because that's not what I meant. The office is unusually quiet. People have been slipping out all afternoon. Kelly and Ryan left a few minutes ago so now it's even more quiet. but I don't really mind. When it's quiet it lets me think.

Nothing too special in this letter, but there were still two more to go, Marsha thought. With a full grin on her face at her own silliness, she set that letter on the table next to her and picked up the other two. Again she closed her eyes, dropped them in her lap and then grabbed the first one she touched.

Hey Jim,

I really should stop doing this at some point and just talk to you instead. Because I want to tell you something. I don't know why I don't just tell you now. It's you. I trust you. I never used to have a problem talking to you, even about stuff that I wouldn't have bothered anyone else with. But the thing is, except for you, I've never been good at talking to people about really important things. Mostly because I've never really felt like I had anything important to talk about. Or maybe I've just never had someone who I knew really, really cared about what I was saying. It's probably a little of both, to be honest. Anyway, the point is I don't know how to, I mean, I can't just say things. I could never in a million years do what you did. I just...

This is crazy. I can't even say it in a letter that I know you'll never read. Okay fine. I'm just gonna write it out without thinking about it. Because I have thought about. A lot. Enough that I know it's true. So now I can just say it without thinking right? Okay here I go.

I Love You.

It's taken me about ten minutes of sheer stubbornness not to cross that out. But deep down I don't want to. I don't want to keep denying it to myself. So there it is. And someday, maybe, I'll be able to say it to you for real. But for now this is almost

Marsha turned over the page, but there was nothing more. She took a moment to reread the letter she was holding. Suddenly everything seemed more serious. She had known before that Pam had feelings for Jim, but Pam hadn't been clear on how deep those feelings were until now. She sat for almost a full minute thinking about what she had just read. This wasn't right. She didn't know these people and she didn't know anything, really, about their circumstances or what had happened between them, but she knew that loving someone, as Pam had just admitted she loved Jim, wasn't something you could take lightly.

It wasn't right. And it also wasn't fair. Love like that wasn't meant to be wasted. What was Pam doing? Why had Jim moved on? None of this made any sense. With a puzzled expression Marsha opened the last letter.

Hi Jim,

I'm in an incredibly good mood today and if Karen weren't here I would definitely be telling you why, so instead I'll just write about it here. It's nothing big, but it really made my day. See yesterday I had my art class and I've been working on this landscape that just hasn't felt right for some reason, so instead of doing that I started on something new. I was thinking about you and work and the way you told me I should go for that internship in graphic design that Jan mentioned once, but that Roy thought I shouldn't bother with. I guess I just couldn't stop thinking about that, and as I was thinking I started sketching the outside of our office.

I put in the parking lot and everything. I hadn't really thought much about it before, but that parking lot has a lot of memories attached to it. Remember last year when we spent almost the whole day out there because of the fire? And remember when Dwight ran into the pole trying to go pick up Michael after he "injured" himself? Of course, my favorite memory of all is still standing under the stars in a fancy dress with a huge smile on my face right before you told me you loved me. Jim, if you had just warned me somehow, I don't know what I would've done, but I definitely was not expecting you to

This letter ended abruptly too and Marsha could picture Pam suddenly balling it up and tossing it into the trash either in frustration or because someone was approaching her desk. She leaned back in her chair again thinking about what she would do if she was in Pam's situation. These poor people, she thought. They all seemed so trapped. Karen was with Jim, but did she know that he was once in love with Pam, and that Pam loves him now? And of course Jim had no way of knowing that Pam was now in love with him, but she wondered what he would do if he found out. Her forehead wrinkled a little and she closed her eyes to concentrate, it really wasn't any of her business, but there had to be something she could do! She just didn't want any of them to end up like her. All alone in the middle of the night.

She was still sitting in her chair fast asleep with the lamp on and that last letter in her hand when the sun rose a few hours later.

Marsha picked up the phone. This time she made it through five of the seven numbers before slamming it back down again.

Ever since she had read the last batch of letters she'd known that she needed to do something about this situation, but it had taken her a few days to talk herself into it. After all, she didn't know Pam or Jim. And she wasn't a very out-going person. She wanted to help, but she didn't know how she could. At first, she considered visiting the Dunder-Mifflin office some time with an excuse that she needed to discuss their cleaning contract. Then when she got there she would somehow arrange it so that she could get Pam and Jim alone and sit them down for a talking-to. But that idea was quickly scrapped when she realized she'd never have the guts to go through with it.

Then she thought about somehow delivering the notes to Jim so that he would know how Pam felt about him, and could act accordingly. She liked some things about this idea, like the fact that she wouldn't have to be involved in anything more than a silent role as anonymous post-woman. Ultimately, though, she just couldn't bring herself to betray Pam's trust like that. Of course, Pam didn't know that Marsha had found the letters, so she would never know how Jim had gotten them, but it still seemed wrong. She knew that had she been in Pam's place the very last thing she would have wanted was for Jim to get these letters before she was ready to openly confess her feelings.

In the end, Marsha decided that what she really needed to do was to get a better feel for the situation. Something other than Pam's letters, that would help her figure out how to proceed. Or at least give her a clue about whether Jim would even be receptive now that so much time had passed, and he was with someone else. So she'd decided to call Dunder-Mifflin to talk to him. Now all she had to do was finish dialing the phone number.

She took another deep breath, quickly punched in the numbers, closed her eyes and waited as it rang once... twice...

"Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam." Pam. This was Pam's voice. Everything was suddenly so much more real. Pam was a real person on the other end of the phone. Her voice was quieter than Marsha had thought it would be, and a little higher pitched. It was disarming, sweet and innocent. She realized that she didn't even know how old Pam was.

"Hello?" The voice jarred Marsha out of her daydream and she quickly clicked the receiver down again.

She tried calling two more times that afternoon, but she never made it past Pam's initial greeting.

On Wednesday Marsha made an interesting discovery. After retrieving two more letters from Pam's garbage can and checking the top of Jim's desk for more clues (nothing except a note from someone named Kevin about fantasy football, whatever that was) she turned her attention to the rest of the office. She wondered what it would be like to work there. How much, if anything, did the rest of the office workers knew about Jim and Pam's past? Wandering among the other desks, glancing at assorted papers, she stopped when she saw the name on a fax.

Attn: Karen Filippelli.

Was it possible? Was this Karen? The Karen? That would explain so much. But it couldn't be. It must just be a coincidence. Plenty of people were named Karen. It didn't necessarily mean that this was the same Karen that Jim was dating. Because, honestly, how awkward would that be? Still, the possibility was disconcerting to say the least. All three of them? In the same room, every single day? Definitely awkward.

She finished out the shift still mulling over what she'd seen. When she arrived home she pulled out the blue box with all the letters in it and snuggled under the covers. Of course, she would read the new ones first, but she wanted to have the others on hand to reread afterwards. She felt like these letters were all pieces of a larger puzzle and every time she looked at them something new would appear to fill in a little bit more of the picture.

My Dear Jim,

I am enclosing this bright yellow post-it because I want you to know how much of a dork I really am. This is a note that you wrote me probably almost a year ago about a couple of files you wanted me to get for you, and I found it again this summer after you left. There's this cute little smiley face at the bottom, and at the time I just missed you so much... Anyways, I feel stupid that I've kept it for so long, so I decided to file it into the garbage with the rest of the things I'll never tell you.

Sometimes it drives me crazy that we can't just talk about all this. I mean, I know you're with Karen, and I know I probably wouldn't be able to tell you half the stuff I really need to tell you even if we tried talking because I just can't do that. But that doesn't mean I don't feel like trying sometimes. I just wish there was some way to make you understand how I'm feeling without having to go through all that. Because it just wouldn't work. I wouldn't be able to get it all out, and then you'd be wondering what I was trying to say and I wouldn't be able to explain it right. It would just be a mess.

The funny thing is, even though I know that that's how it would be in real life, I still have this perverse little dream of someday staying late after work and being the only two left in the office and just walking over to your desk and not even stopping to think before reaching up to kiss you. And then when you would inevitably pull back because you're with Karen, just like I did when I was with Roy, I'd say "Screw it Halpert!" and keep kissing you until you stopped fighting it. And everything would be so perfect and right. And I could just stop worrying about hiding everything, hiding my feelings, hiding myself. Then later we'd be lying in your bed and I'd be safe in your arms and right before I fell asleep I'd kiss you goodnight and tell you that I love you. And you'd say you love me too.

See, now not only do you know what a dork I am, but also how unhealthy some of my daydreams are. This is so sad. I seriously need to stop writing these. It's funny though. I mean I know you'll never read these letters, but I just can't seem to stop talking to you even when you're not listening. It's like having my old Jim back. The one I could tell everything to. So I guess I'll probably keep writing until I can start talking for real.

Till then,

Your Pam

Still blushing from the middle paragraph, Marsha smiled in spite of herself as she read the last line. At least now she could be sure that these letters would keep coming for awhile. Was it wrong to hope that Pam wouldn't get the courage to tell Jim, if it meant that Pam would keep writing these letters? It wasn't that she didn't want them to be happy, but these letters meant so much to her. Just having something to look forward too made her feel alive in a way she hadn't for so long. But Marsha didn't dwell on it. She had another letter to read.

Halpert,

I hate you. I love you, but I hate you. Seriously, why do you do this to me? Don't you understand how much of my mood depends on what you say as you head out the door? Okay, I know, I know. I sound completely pathetic. Just, aagh! Did you have to put your arm around her? I mean, I'm so frustrated right now. I feel like I'm just sitting here watching everything I'll never have walk out of my life. And it wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have to keep watching it walk away from me every single day. At least when you were gone I didn't have to face it all the time. Sometimes I could even get away with pretending we were still friends, that you were just waiting to call me until something really great happened. That maybe I'd talk to you on the weekend or something. It was stupid, I know, but it was better than facing the truth. Now I feel like every day that I have to watch you walk away with her is a slap in the face saying "No more pretending Pam, this is reality."

Poor Pam. This letter only strengthened Marsha's resolve to do something, even if it meant the end of these letters. Especially since this one seemed to confirm that Karen really did work there. Or at least that was a strong possibility if Pam kept seeing them leave together. She read over a few of the other letters, but it was late and she knew she wasn't really thinking straight, so finally she turned out the light and drifted off to sleep.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"I need to tell you something." there was just the faintest hint of tears in that soft, innocent voice she'd heard on the phone.

"What is it? Pam are you okay?" when she didn't say anything, he continued. "Just tell me. I promise whatever it is I'll fix it. I'll make it better. Please tell me." His voice was warm and pleading.

Finally she whispered, "I'm so sorry. I can't."

Marsha woke with a start. She was disoriented, her throat was dry and for some reason she felt terribly sad. Blinking a few more times she focused her eyes on the clock across the room. It read 4:53. With a sigh of relief she rolled over and told herself not to wake up for a few more hours. As she slowly lost consciousness again she reminded herself that it wasn't something to get upset about. It was just a dream. Only a dream.

Dear Mr. Halpert,

No. Too formal

Dear Jim,

My name is Marsha Platz and I work on the janitorial crew that cleans your office. I know this might seem a little strange, but I would like to meet you sometime because I have something I'd like to discuss with you that I think you will find very worth your time.

No way. She could not write that. That made her sound like a completely psychotic stalker. Or a hooker. Either way it wasn't going to work. With a grunt of frustration she crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it into the rapidly growing pile on the kitchen floor.

"Okay," she thought to herself. "This is getting ridiculous so this is it. This will be the one. Here's what you're going to do. Write out a whole letter. Leave it alone for a few hours, come back and read it, and if you still think it makes you sound like a crazy person, then you can write a new letter. Got it? Okay. Good." She took a deep breath and started to write.

Dear Jim,

You don't know me, but my name is Marsha Platz and I work on the janitorial crew that cleans Dunder-Mifflin. I have recently come across some things that I think might belong to you. The items are fairly valuable, so I would prefer to meet you in person to make sure that they're really yours. I know this might seem a bit strange, but I hope you won't mind calling me so that we can arrange a time to meet. My number is on the back of the janitorial service's business card that I have enclosed so that you will know I was telling you the truth about my job. Please call soon because this is very important and somewhat time-sensitive.

Sincerely,

Marsha Platz

Three hours later she couldn't find anything seriously wrong with it, so she folded up the piece of lined paper. Then she stuck it, and the business card, in an envelope and headed into work.

Later that night, as she entered the Dunder-Mifflin office her fingertips were already tingling. To calm herself down, she made the now-familiar walk toward Pam's desk and riffled through the papers in her garbage can. She found only one letter--still in the same vivid blue ink as the others. Marsha realized it must have come from one of the pens in the pencil cup on Pam's desk. She fingered the pens as she pictured Pam sitting at this very desk scribbling away. Writing her letters.

Marsha took a seat for a minute in Pam's chair, just to get a better idea of what it was like for Pam. She also felt herself becoming a little shaky. This wasn't like her at all. She wasn't the sort of person who left notes for people she had never met before.

To be honest, it wasn't even really the note that was making her nervous. It was the fact that once she did this there would be no turning back. She would now become a participant in this little melodrama instead of just a passive observer. And she still wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. After all, there was still so much about these people that she didn't know.

Marsha couldn't deny the fact that something had to be done. But she had hoped that she would be able to come up with a plan that kept her own involvement to a minimum. She didn't have the best track record when it came to romance, and she didn't want that to jinx what she hoped that Pam and Jim might have.

She turned to look at the rest of the office. Pam had an interesting view, she thought. You could see almost all the desks from here. But Jim's definitely took up the most space in her line of vision. What would it be like to spend your whole day looking at someone you loved without being able to tell them? Marsha smiled at her own musings. The answer to that last question was quite literally sitting in the palm of her hand.

Ever since finding those first few letters it had become a sort of tradition with her to quickly pocket whatever letters she found in Pam's trash and save them to read later at home. She liked it that way because it gave her something to look forward to. But maybe for one night it was time to break that tradition. She turned over the piece of paper and read:

Dear Jim,

I have this huge grin on my face. I can't stop smiling. I would tell you why but it's so stupid. So I'll just write it here instead. See, I had this crazy dream right before I woke up this morning. Ryan was in it and he was telling me how he was secretly in love with Meredith because of the way her skin smells like barbecued ribs in the afternoon, and then Toby was there but his hair was bright pink and... okay I'd better stop thinking about it because now I'm giggling and you're starting to give me this weird look and I can see Michael about to come out of his office to ask me what's going on. On the other hand, maybe I should tell you. You look like you could use a laugh today. I'll tell you at lunch. Unless you're eating with Karen.

Which reminds me: Karen. Jim? Why did it have to be Karen? Anyone else I could have dealt with somehow but Karen's so normal and nice and I feel like she's way better than I am in some ways. When you were dating Katy I know now that I was jealous, but I guess I never really took that seriously because I just couldn't see you being serious about her. I just hate that Karen is such a cool person, because if she wasn't I could just loathe her without feeling bad about it, but as it is...

Sorry. I'm done whining about your girlfriend now. Besides, I'd rather talk about you. You and me. Me and you. Us. Mr and Mrs. Jim and Pam Halpert. Whoa! Sorry. Not sure where that came from. Actually, hold on a sec. Pam Halpert. Okay, I just had to try it one more time. But I'm seriously done now because I'm really scaring myself. I mean, it's not like I haven't occasionally entertained the possibility of, you know, eventually, maybe in a few years, thinking about...that. But I try not to think about it right now, first of all because I don't know how I even feel about being engaged again after I spent so many years engaged to the wrong guy, and secondly because despite what goes on in my twisted little fantasy world you and I are not dating. We have never dated. And for all I know we never will. I just happen to be secretly in love with you. But still that doesn't mean that anything is ever going to come of it. So I think I'd better steer clear of that particular fantasy for now.

But... I really hope something does come of it. Because, well here, let me see if I can explain. Do you remember that one time when I said that if you left I'd blow my brains out? Well, I meant it. Wait, no. Not exactly. I mean, well, okay I wouldn't technically blow my brains out because that's a little extreme but the sentiment was true. And it still is. What I'm trying to say is that I have to keep hoping that someday this will all work out and that we'll finally be together because if I didn't have you in my life I don't know what else there would be that would make it worth getting up in the morning. No wait. That's not exactly true either. I could live without you if I really had to, but it wouldn't be a real life. There's just something about you that brings out the best in me, and without you around, like when you were gone this summer, I'm not fully myself.

Sorry. I know I'm rambling. And I don't know why I keep apologizing to you when I know you'll never read this. I guess that's a bad habit of mine. I hope this is making sense to you. I'm trying to get it all down so that it will make some sense to me. I feel like if I can get it all straight in my head, then maybe someday I'll be able to explain it to you for real.

Later- I've kept this paper in the pocket of my sweater for the last few hours because I plan to take it home with me and burn it. I can't believe I wrote all that down. I am so pathetic.

Now that I've got it out again though I might as well keep writing for a bit. These letters are perfect because they make it look like I'm busy, which makes it far less likely that people will come up to my desk and ask me to do things for them. That's another thing I miss about not being friends with you. You were always so good at running interference. Whenever Dwight went off on some incredibly boring tangent about Battlestar Galactica or his newest laser tag strategy you were always there to step in with something that would send him back off into Dwight-world. And then you'd just smile at me, grab a few jellybeans and sit back down at your desk. I don't think you even realized how much I appreciated you saving me like that. You probably just did it without thinking. I still can't believe I didn't know then how much I loved you. I did love you though. It's funny that I can say that, but it's true.

I can't remember when I started loving you, but I know that I've been in love with you for years even if I wouldn't let myself acknowledge it until a few months ago. Well, it's past 4:30 and I still have some actual work to do. Crazy I know! Anyway, you look like you're getting ready to leave so since I can't say it out loud I'll write what I want to say right now. Goodnight Jim. You're still my best friend. And I love you.

Love,

Pam

P.S. On second thought, maybe taking this home to burn it isn't such a great idea. I'd probably be tempted to keep it.

P.P.S. If we ever do get engaged can I just request that you not propose to me in front of a crowd? I'd rather it be just the two of us. Not that I've pictured it. Much. Wow I so need to stop writing now. I'll get back to you when I'm not in such a crazy mood.

Just as Marsha finished reading Pam's postscripts she heard her co-workers coming down the hall. With a quick burst of energy she jumped up from her place in Pam's chair. Whatever her reservations, now was the time to act.

She folded Pam's letter back up and returned it to her pocket. Her fingers were shaking again as she hurried to Jim's desk and slipped her own envelope underneath the few papers piled on his keyboard. As the rest of the crew walked in she headed to the back to give herself a minute to calm down from the shock of what she had just done. She didn't want to have to explain to Henni and the others why her breathing was shallow and why she couldn't quite feel her legs. That didn't matter, though. She had done it! This was it.

She had just passed the point of no return.

On Monday, Marsha woke to the sound of the phone ringing. She rolled over toward her nightstand to make the bad noise go away, but before she got the chance, she heard the faint tone of her answering machine's recorded message down in the kitchen. Feeling relieved she covered her face with her quilt and was drifting off to sleep again when she remembered: Jim. She had given Jim this number. And being the normal person that he was, and not someone who made their living between 7:30 pm and 3 something am, he had called at 9:00 in the morning.

In a panic, she scrambled out of bed and raced toward the kitchen, the sounds of Jim's voice accompanying the banging of her bare feet on the hardwood in her hallway. Halfway down the stairs she realized that, had she been thinking rationally, she could have just picked up the phone in her room. As it was, she made it to the kitchen just in time to hear him say "...so you can just give me a call back and let me know what time would work for you. Thanks. Bye."

Great, she thought. Now she'd have to be the one making the phone call again. She hit the little button to listen to the entire message. He had a nice voice and he seemed very polite, if a little confused by her letter. With a sigh she trudged back up the stairs and fell face forward down on her bed. She'd deal with Jim later.

By the time she finally got up the nerve to call back, it was close to two in the afternoon. She dialed the number and the extension he'd left on the phone. She had considered not dialing that extension, which would give her a chance to talk to Pam if she wanted to, but she was starting to feel a little guilty about what she was thinking about doing with Pam's letters. And she'd just as soon not have a conversation with Pam right before talking to Jim.

"Hi you've reached Jim Halpert at Dunder-Mifflin..." Voicemail. Perfect. She waited for the beep.

"Hi Jim, this is Marsha Platz. I'm sorry I missed your call. I was hoping we could meet sometime maybe later this week? Afternoons are best for me, so just give me a call back if you would." She hesitated for a minute, trying to decide if she should give him a clue as to what their meeting would really be about, but then she decided she really needed to talk to him about all that in person. She finished the message: "Okay. Well, I'll talk to you later. Bye."

Marsha and Jim traded a few more messages after that and by Wednesday afternoon they'd arranged to meet the following day at a coffee shop downtown around 3:00. As Marsha entered the Dunder-Mifflin office on Wednesday night she was still feeling a little guilty about her plans to meet with Jim, but that didn't stop her from heading straight to Pam's garbage can. She collected three more letters and then headed to Jim's desk. She wanted to see if there was anything either on top of his desk, or in his own trash that would give her some insight into what to expect tomorrow. But his desk was relatively clean, as usual, and there was nothing in the trash but memos and a few faxes. She was just about to turn to Karen's desk when the door to the office opened and she had to begin working with the rest of the cleaning crew.

When she arrived home that night she pulled out Pam's letters. They were short, but tonight that was a good thing. She needed something short but sweet for her meeting with Jim. The first one she picked surprised her.

Dear Pam,

I love you so much. I was so wrong to move away and never call you and come back with someone I'll never love as much as I love you. You're my best friend and you make me smile and you're so beautiful. I love the way you make me laugh and all the good memories we've shared and I especially love the look on your face when you know you've just gotten away with something devious. I know lately I've a hard time telling you stuff like this, but I thought maybe if I wrote it in a letter it would be easier. And that way we could avoid another awkward conversation. We seem to have had way too many awkward conversations already. So why don't you just write back to let me know if I should come over there and kiss you senseless.

Love,

Jim

Okay, okay so you didn't really write this to me. But it's what you should write. I mean seriously Jim--don't you think you should write me this note? Everything would just be so much easier if I walked into work one day and found this lying on my desk. Well, it was just a thought. I guess we'll have to do this the hard way after all.

Marsha chuckled a little as she read over Pam's letter again, but as much as she had enjoyed it, it was definitely not going to work for tomorrow's meeting. She unfolded the next letter, hoping it would prove more useful. And it did. In fact, Marsha was sure that this second letter would work. It was short and casual. Sure, it was a little flirtatious, but it probably wasn't anything more than a normal conversation Jim and Pam would have anyway. And hopefully if the rest of their meeting went well, Jim would be intrigued enough to follow Marsha's plan. Relieved that she'd found something suitable, Marsha turned her attention to the final letter.

Darling Jim,

Wow. I'm (silently) laughing so hard right now because it sounds outrageous to call you that, but the truth is I've secretly always wanted to call someone darling. I promise it won't happen again though. Or at least not for a very, very, very long time. So my darling--kidding! Oh no! Now I can't stop! Well, whatever I'm just gonna go with it. So darling, I've missed you. You were gone almost all afternoon. Why would you do that to me when you must know I can't live without you?

Aw crap. I was going to make this longer, but Michael just motioned me into his office, and from the hints he's been giving me, I could be in there for hours. If I send out a smoke signal S.O.S. will you come save me from him? Please? I'd love you forever if you did. Not that I can really help loving you as it is, but that's another story.

Hoping you'll come to my rescue,

Your darling delegate from Iceland

Marsha was somewhat confused by this letter, but she was happy that Pam had obviously been in a good mood when she'd written it. One of the things she liked best about Pam's letters was that she never knew what she was going to get. Pam's moods varied quite a bit and it was always interesting to see a different aspect of her personality. She felt like she had come to know Pam pretty well over the past few weeks despite the fact that they'd never had an actual conversation. This affinity she felt for Pam, only made her meeting with Jim tomorrow that much more important. She knew she had to go through with it now, but she was worried that without knowing it, she might end up doing something that would hurt Pam. As she switched off the light, she tried to convince herself that her plan was going to work, and that in the end Pam would be getting exactly what she really wanted.

-----

When he arrived at the coffee shop on Thursday the place was fairly busy. Mostly high school kids stopping by on their way home from school, plus the odd businesswoman impatiently tapping her foot while waiting in line. When his coffee was ready, he took it with him to a seat by the front window, relieved that there was an empty spot. He had a good view of the street from here and he watched the people walking by, wondering which one could be Marsha. He still didn't really know what this was about, but she had been insistent on the phone--almost begging him to meet her here, and he had to admit, he was a little curious to see what was so important to her. He settled back in his chair and scanned the shop once more. For the first time, he noticed someone eyeing him from the back corner. It was a woman, and when he caught her staring at him, she blushed and then began walking toward him. She was older than he was, but not old. Maybe late-40s if he'd had to guess. She wore a pair of old jeans and a sweater. As far as he could tell she wasn't wearing any make-up, but her hair was twisted up nicely. He stood to meet her and she nervously smiled and stuck out a hand to greet him.

"You must be Marsha." he said.

"Yes, and you're Jim?"

"Yeah." When she didn't say anything or move to sit down, he continued, "I'm sorry, can I get you something to drink?"

"Oh, no. No thank you, I'm fine." she said, sitting down at the table.

-----

So this was Jim. Marsha wasn't sure what she thought of him. She supposed he was good-looking, but what really concerned her wasn't his looks. She wanted to try to get a feel for his personality, something that would clue her in on how to proceed. She had come up with a couple different ideas for what to do at this point. Option A: she could just tell Jim that she'd been mistaken about the "items" she'd found and apologize for wasting his time. That wasn't what she wanted to do though, and she was thinking about it only as a last resort. Option B: she could try to explain in a general way that she thought he ought to do something about his current situation with Karen and Pam, but she felt like this wouldn't be nearly as effective as the last option she'd come up with, Option C. As they continued chatting, Jim's friendly demeanor and genuine charm convinced Marsha that she'd been right. This was going to work. Option C was the winner. Smiling to herself, she decided to get right down to business.

"So, you must be wondering about my letter."

"Actually, yes. I'm glad you brought that up. I still don't think I lost anything though. What was it you found?"

"Well, it's not really something you lost." she replied cryptically. "It's more like something I think you should have. Well, several things actually. Here--maybe I should just let you see for yourself." she reached down toward her purse, and took out a piece of lined paper.

"Just read this," she said.

-----

Jim unfolded the paper and was surprised to notice that it was written in Pam's handwriting. But what really stunned him was what she had written.

Dear Jim,

I have less than 2 more hours to go before I can escape this place. I have class tonight and then I think I'm going to watch Legally Blonde. I don't care what you say, that is too a good movie. It showcases the modern woman's ability to overcome all odds and win true love and her dream career all in one fell swoop. Plus the guy in it is really cute, so that's definitely an added draw. Still he's not as cute as some people I know.

Shoot. Dwight's coming! Gotta go!

Bye,

Pam

-----

It took Jim a few minutes to speak after Marsha handed him the letter. She spent the time looking out the front window at the dull gray sky and the coat-wrapped pedestrians meandering past the coffee shop. When Jim did speak it was in a much quieter voice than she had heard him use before.

"Where did you get this?" he asked. His face was guarded, as if whatever happened he wasn't going to let her see his reaction. For a minute she doubted herself again. Her stomach sank ominously. What had she just done?

"I found it," she cautiously replied. "Pam doesn't know I have it, but she didn't want to keep it, so I did."

"You know Pam?"

"Well, no, not really. It's a little complicated."

Jim raised his eyebrows, silently encouraging her to continue.

"Look, I just want to know if you'd like to keep this," she asked.

He paused again for a few seconds and her breath caught as she realized the enormity of the miscalculation she might have made.

"Yes," he said finally. "I'd like that."

"Okay. Good." She sighed with relief. "That's good. But here's the thing: I have more of these, but you're going to have to offer me something in return if you want to see them too."

"I'm sorry. What was that?"

"I have a proposition for you." She spoke slowly to hide the shakiness in her voice. "These letters aren't mine, but I'm the one who found them and they're special and I wouldn't want someone to get them who wasn't planning to appreciate them."

"I... believe me, I'd appreciate them." His voice was still quiet, but it was also achingly sincere. She couldn't help but think that maybe Jim had been missing Pam as much as Pam had obviously been missing him.

"Yes. I believe you would." With an encouraging smile she continued, "Here's what I'd like to do. From now on, when I come to clean Dunder-Mifflin I will leave you one letter on your desk from Pam. But in exchange you must leave me a letter from you to Pam." She couldn't help but be amused by the look on his face. It was like frozen panic.

"What...what are you going to do with them?" He asked.

"Read them," she answered, figuring she might as well be honest. "And don't worry, Pam wouldn't know. I mean, I hope she'd know eventually, but I wouldn't give them to her without your permission."

"But why? I mean first off, no. I can't possibly agree to that, but seriously why would you ask me to do that?"

She shrugged, noncommittally, afraid to say anything more. The truth was, she had come to treasure Pam's letters as a link to a world of romance that she hadn't been privy to in a long time. She knew it was wrong to keep them, but she wasn't going to give them up without some kind of a substitute to make up for their loss.

"I... look, I'm sorry," Jim continued "but I don't think you really understand what you're talking about."

"Yes I do Jim," she answered, looking him in the eye. She had meant for this to sound reassuring, but instead she could tell by his expression that he was spooked.

He stood suddenly and gave her another wary glance. She hadn't realized how tall he was before. He opened his mouth to speak again but then apparently thought better of it and abruptly turned toward the door.

"Jim, wait! Look, I know this all sounds crazy, but... just, if you change your mind, just leave me a note or something okay? Put it in your garbage can, so no one else will find it." If he said anything it was too quiet for Marsha to hear, and then with a swish the door had swung shut and Jim was gone.

Jim spent the next few hours re-reading Pam's note every chance he got. He had to return to work, but he read it a few times in the car on the way there, and then he took it inside with him and read it in the men's room twice over the next few hours. He couldn't risk reading it at his desk. Experience had taught him that there was no way something like that would escape Dwight's notice. But he kept it in his pocket, and absently fingered it a few times during his sales calls.

He realized he was thinking about it once while sort of staring off into space in Karen's direction. She caught him looking and smiled, but then she looked confused when, instead of smiling back, Jim knitted his forehead in confusion and turned back to his monitor.

He had no idea how he was supposed to react to his meeting with Marsha. The logical thing of course, would be to go confront Pam about it. But what would he even say to her? He pictured himself getting angry with her for writing him notes instead of just talking to him. Why hadn't she ever been able to be open with him when he had literally opened his entire heart to her? He had laid everything on the line, and she didn't even have the courage to have a simple conversation anymore? It infuriated him, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now. If he tried talking to Pam about it, Karen would inevitably find out and that would only lead to another long series of late-night talks. The logical solution just wasn't possible quite yet.

And besides, he also had to consider the other letters Marsha had mentioned. When he was leaving the coffee shop, she had given him a look that suggested she knew much more about his situation than she'd expressed. It was possible she even knew about his confession to Pam. He couldn't believe Pam would have divulged such private information to a stranger, but Marsha had said that Pam didn't even know she had them, so the idea that Marsha knew everything couldn't be dismissed so easily.

Not that it really mattered how much Marsha knew. It was just a little disconcerting. He had always thought of that night as theirs and only theirs. And the idea that it was being considered--or maybe even discussed--by the cleaning lady, of all people, just didn't sit well with him.

He was still thinking about his meeting with Marsha as he made dinner that night. Marsha's deal had been ridiculous; he wasn't about to write Pam a letter that would be read by someone he had only met once in a coffee shop. And after all, he couldn't trust Marsha not to give the letter to Pam. She might be a very sweet person, or she might be a creepy psychopath. Either way, it just wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

Lying in bed later, it finally came to him. He couldn't accept Marsha's offer, he knew that, but maybe he could make her a counter-offer that would satisfy them both. It was late, but he switched the light back on and started digging around in the boxes that were stacked in his closet. Pulling out an old cardboard box, he ripped off the duct tape and checked the contents. Yes, he thought, this could work perfectly.

-----

When Marsha entered the office on Saturday night, she knew this was another one of those nights when she would have to be quick. Her co-workers were right behind her, and she had a lot to do.

For the first time in weeks, she bypassed the reception area and instead went straight to Jim's desk.

First things first, she thought, pulling a plain white envelope from her bag and slipping it under Jim's keyboard. Then she checked Jim's garbage can and was simultaneously relieved and frankly a little surprised to find a similar envelope addressed to her. She very much wanted to open it right then, but she knew that if she did so, she might not get a chance to check Pam's garbage before everyone else arrived. Reluctantly, she slipped the envelope from Jim into her pocket and hurried to Pam's garbage can.

As her gloved hand sifted through discarded copies and used packaging, she thought perhaps there wouldn't be anything this time. But right as Henni and the others were walking in, she saw one. She managed to turn so her co-workers wouldn't see her fishing Pam's letter out of the trash, and as they began grumbling about the disgusting state of the men's bathroom she pocketed Pam's letter with a satisfied smile.

As soon as she got home she ripped open the envelope Jim had left her. It contained two pieces of paper. The first was a note in Jim's handwriting.

Marsha,

I'm sorry that I walked out on you yesterday, but I think I was justified in being a little upset. I still don't think you really understand what's going on between me and Pam, but that's between the two of us.

I know I said I couldn't accept your offer, but I really would like to see more of those letters from Pam, and I think you were right to contact me about them since they're addressed to me. As it stands, I'd like to propose something a little different. If you will give me a letter from Pam each time you come in, I am prepared to offer you another letter in return.

Ever since I was little my mom has been making me write one letter, every year on my birthday, to the girl of my dreams. I know it sounds corny but I was hoping I could trade you one of those letters for one of Pam's. I made a copy of the first one, so you could see what they're like.

If that's okay with you, go ahead and keep this copy and I'll expect another letter from Pam sometime next week.

It really was nice to meet you, even if the circumstances were a little strange.

Thanks,

Jim Halpert

Marsha pulled the other piece of paper out of Jim's envelope and smiled as she read a typical ten-year-old's version of a love letter. Jim's mother was either very sentimental or had a really good sense of humor. The letter was typed, and Marsha figured Jim must have gone over it to correct any spelling or grammar mistakes.

Hm... She knew she shouldn't do it. But Jim hadn't specifically told her not to. It wasn't technically part of their deal. And this would definitely hurry things along, which was really the whole reason she'd gotten herself into this mess. With a sneaky little smile she stuck Jim's dream girl letter back in her bag and then turned her attention to the one Pam had left.

Dear Jim,

Why won't you let me play with you anymore? If you're pulling another prank on Dwight then I really wish you would tell me. It's not like I'm suddenly in love with my job or anything. I still get bored. I still need you to revive me. I thought we had a deal. Fine whatever. You've been in a weird mood all day anyway. I guess I'll just have to have fun by myself.

Speaking of which: did you know Angela's planning a christening party for her next litter of cats? Seriously. She invited me. I think I might actually go though. I mean, Angela's really not that bad. It's not like it's Meredith asking me to go bar-hopping with her. Does it count as bar-hopping if you never make it out of the first bar?

Anyways, I don't know why you're avoiding me, but since you are I guess I'll just have to talk to you in this letter instead. Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we had stayed friends after you left? If we had, I wonder if you would still have started dating Karen. Not that it makes a difference now, of course. But I wish that we had talked more while you were there. And not just because I missed you like crazy. (Even though I did.) Seriously, that one phone call made my month. I had pretty much given up hope of ever hearing your voice again and then magically, one day there you were, and it was like nothing had changed. It meant so much to me.

But I also wish we had talked then because I think it could have been really good for us to have a little time to figure out what we wanted out of our relationship at that point, and to do it without having to see each other at work the next day. As much as I have always loved having you around some things are just easier to do at a distance.

But maybe it was better that we took a little break from each other. I know I needed some time to come to terms with what happened and to sort of re-invent myself a little bit. You probably didn't notice, but I think I changed a lot while you were gone. And not just the new car and apartment and fiancée-less lifestyle either. I mean, I feel like I changed as a person.

It's funny, every time I say something like that to my Mom, she always tells me that I'm really not as different as I'd like to think I am. I guess maybe that's true. I don't know. I used to talk to you about this stuff, but now...

Well, it's getting late so I'd better go. I hope you're okay, whatever the mood is about.

Love you,

Marsha set Pam's letter with the rest of them in the blue box where she kept them all, and then tried to fall asleep. She couldn't believe what these letters had done to her since she first found them. She felt like Pam's latest letter described the way that she was changing too--like she had changed "as a person." Especially when she thought about what she was planning to do with Jim's letter.

-----

Jim arrived early on Monday morning. He wanted to see if Marsha had responded to his letter yet. He had checked with Pam, who confirmed that the cleaning crew only came into the office twice a week: Wednesday and Saturday nights. She had given him a curious smile when he asked, and Jim knew she probably thought he was planning another prank and wanted in on his scheme. But that smile at that time had been a little too much for him, considering what was really going on, so he'd just turned back to his desk.

He walked out of the elevator, down the hall and into the office, wondering if Marsha would accept his offer and perhaps let him see more of Pam's letters. He couldn't expect that until Thursday at the earliest, but the mere possibility was enough to keep him on edge.

When he came in, he could see a white envelope under his keyboard. He opened it to find a note from Marsha.

Jim,

I'm sorry that I didn't make myself clearer when we met. I never meant to hurt you or Pam with any of this. I hope you'll reconsider my offer, and I have enclosed another letter from Pam to try to persuade you to do so. This letter was the first one I found a few weeks ago. Pam still doesn't know that I've been keeping them, but I just couldn't throw them away. Thanks for meeting with me.

Sincerely,

Marsha

Jim reached into the envelope and pulled out the second page. Like Pam's first note this one was written in blue ink and had little scribbles all over it.

Dear Jim,

It seems strange to be writing to you while I'm looking at the back of your head, but I couldn't figure out any other way to tell you how I'm feeling. I miss you. I miss you so much. I miss being able to talk to you about everything or nothing or whatever. I just miss...you. I guess since I know I'll never actually give you this letter I might as well tell you a few more things while I'm at it.

Jim, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you that I hadn't gone through with the wedding. You have no idea how much I wanted to call you and tell you everything. But, I just couldn't. When you left I didn't know what to do. I didn't know where we stood. I didn't even know if you would have wanted me to call, even if I hadn't been so afraid to. I tried talking to my Mom about everything, but she didn't really get it. I don't think anyone has ever understood me the way you do. Or, I guess the way you did.

He had just finished reading Pam's letter when Kevin and Oscar walked in together, with Kelly and Phyllis right behind them. He quickly put both papers back in the envelope, which he stowed in his bag for now. He wasn't sure what to think of this letter. He wanted to stay mad at Pam for not talking to him in person, but it was hard to be angry with her when he knew that she was missing him. The truth was that he missed her friendship too. And she shouldn't be beating herself up for not calling him, when he could have just as easily called her after finding out about the wedding. He sighed. Now was not the time to be thinking about this. Not when Pam or Karen would soon be walking in the door, but at some point, he knew he really needed to figure all this out.

-----

"Pam, here--this is for you."

"Oh, thanks Ryan. What is it?"

"I don't know; some woman in the parking lot asked me to give it to you," Ryan replied. He could have also told Pam that he hadn't given it to her earlier because the woman had specifically asked him to wait until Jim wasn't around to give Pam the envelope. But it was Monday morning, and to be honest he just didn't care that much.

"Oh. Okay," said Pam. "Well, thanks."

"Yeah, sure."

Pam opened the envelope, curious to see what "some woman" had written her.

Dear girl of my dreams,

Today I am turning ten years old. My mom has been making me write these letters on my birthday for a couple of years now, but I lost the other ones in my room somewhere so now she says she's going to keep them all for me until I can be trusted with them. I thought maybe if I lost the others that she wouldn't make me write anymore, but I guess I was wrong. I can't really think of anything to say but I'm supposed to make this a page long.

I hope you are having a good time wherever you are. I hope I don't know you yet because if you end up being Cindy Mason from Mrs. Colburn's class that would be really really really gross. I hope you have really long, curly red hair and purple eyes. I've never met anyone with purple eyes but my best friend Matt says his aunt has purple eyes, so I know they're real. Matt's aunt also saw a ghost once! And she got so scared that she ran the whole way from her house to Matt's house in one night. And she lives in California!

Okay, this is almost a whole page, so I'm gonna go ask my mom if it's long enough. She said no. She said I have to write more about you and how much I like you and stuff. My mom's pretty gross about being all mushy. Anyways, she says I have to say this so: I like you dream girl.

The end.

I mean...um...

From,

Me

What in the world is going on? Pam wondered. She almost threw the letter away, but she was so confused by it, and she thought it was kind of funny, in a way, to be getting a mysterious letter like this from a ten-year-old. So she decided to keep it, for now. Maybe she could laugh about it later with her mom.

On Wednesday night Marsha made it to the Dunder-Mifflin office just in time to grab letters from Jim and Pam out of their trashcans and take them with her to the bathroom. She wanted to read Jim's letter once before leaving it for Pam, but she knew she wouldn't have time to do it out in the open before everyone else arrived.

Marsha didn't know what was wrong with her. She wasn't nearly as excited about reading these letters as she usually was. Maybe it was that she was starting to get used to reading them, or maybe she was just feeling more and more guilty about invading Pam's privacy, now that she had met Jim—or maybe it was that she felt like she really shouldn't be involved in other people's romantic lives when she couldn't even come up with one of her own.

Since when had she become this person? She hadn't always been so depressingly alone. Back when she and Tony had first gotten together, she would have laughed in the face of anyone who suggested that she would one day spend her nights cleaning offices and her days reading love letters she had salvaged from the garbage.

She didn't want to think about Tony right now. He'd called the other day to check up on her. But what was she supposed to say? Nothing had changed since they'd last talked. And she was sure her kids still wanted nothing to do with her, they'd made that very clear over the years.

She read through Jim's letter quickly. He had written it when he was turning thirteen—the same age her son Sean would turn this year. She stuffed the letter back in the envelope as Henni started calling for her. As bad as it sounded, she didn't really want to think about Sean right now either.

After they'd finished cleaning Marsha made sure she was the only one left in the office before slipping envelopes under Jim and Pam's keyboards. She wondered how long she would have to keep delivering these before Jim and Pam figured out what was going on. It wasn't like she wanted to stop reading their letters, but eventually she hoped they'd come to their senses and just talk to each other, even if that meant she was no longer part of the process. With a sigh, she turned off the lights and locked the door.

She actually forgot all about Pam's letters until she was lying in bed that night. Flicking the light back on, she dug around in the pocket of her work pants for the two scraps of paper she'd found in Pam's trash.

Dear Jim,

I love how just writing those two words makes me smile. I don't think you really understand how much I love you. Well, wait, I'm pretty sure you don't understand at all because I haven't told you yet. But even if I did tell you, I'm not convinced that you'd really get it.

Was this what it was like for you? Did you love me like this when I was engaged to Roy? How did you deal with it? Because sometimes it just hurts so much that I wonder if it's worth it, but other times I know that even if I had a choice I'd still choose to love you no matter how much it hurts because it's worth it just to know that I love you. Does that even make sense? I mean, I guess what I love is being so sure that I'm in love with you. I've never been this sure about anything else, and it's just such a good feeling to know that I love you and that there's nothing you could do to change that.

Now all I have to do is get up the courage to tell you that. How did you do it? Weren't you terrified just thinking about it? And what I said probably only made it ten times worse. How could you possibly say all that, and then come back to kiss me even after I rejected you?

Sorry, lots of questions from me today. Too bad you can't really answer them. But... who knows, maybe...someday.

Till then,

Pam

The second letter was shorter and Marsha was glad because her eyelids were getting heavy.

Hey Halpert,

You crack me up. Did you honestly not get that asking Kelly how her week has been would lead you to a discussion of which type of tampons she thinks are best? I mean, I thought Kelly's cycle was pretty much common knowledge by now, even for people like Creed. Just for future reference, I've heard rumors that Dwight keeps a master schedule for all the women in the office. Which on the one hand EW!!! But on the other, could come in handy sometimes to avoid situations like the one you just found yourself in.

So anyways, I still don't know what's wrong with you lately. I mean, you're not exactly avoiding me, but even Karen has noticed that you're not yourself! I'm sorry, maybe that was mean. I'm sure your girlfriend knows you better than I think she does, even if it doesn't always look like it.

You know what the worst part is? I really like Karen sometimes. I can see why you're attracted to her, and she's obviously a lot more put together than I am. I really am a wreck when you think about it. But I just can't help feeling that, no matter how great she is, there's no way she could really understand or love you the way I do.

Well, I've got a ton of things to

There may have been a few more words before Pam's signature, but Marsha was already too far gone to do anything but reach out with closed eyes for the switch on the lamp. She drifted off to sleep imagining herself as Pam. Young and pretty, with enough time left in her life to fix her mistakes.

-----

Thursday morning was a long time coming and Jim spent the week wondering what he could expect in Marsha's next letter. He still couldn't bring himself to ask Pam about the letters. He felt a little guilty reading them, when she obviously hadn't intended to actually give them to him, but that guilt was quickly smothered by his anticipation to see what else she had written.

His biggest problem right now was trying to keep himself from getting in over his head. He didn't want these letters to stir up any old feelings he might still have for Pam. It was different now. He was with Karen. He liked Karen, and she liked him. And besides, everything was easier with Karen because there was no long, dramatically drawn-out history to deal with. Just thinking about Pam made his head hurt.

Still, by the time he was driving in to work on Thursday morning he couldn't escape the fact that his toes were curling in anticipation. Come on Halpert, get a grip. They're just letters. Letters she can't even give to you for real.

He was the first one in the office, except for Dwight, and he tried to sound calm as he said good morning, but the envelope under his keyboard was calling to him. He slipped it in his bag then hurried to the kitchen to open it where Dwight wouldn't see him.

The envelope held three pieces of paper. Each scrawled in Pam's familiar loopy handwriting.

Jim, Jim, Jim,

Want to know something funny? Sometimes when I'm not really thinking about anything, like right as I'm falling asleep or when I'm cooking in my "one kitchen" or driving home from work all of a sudden I'll just say your name. Jim. I don't even know why.

(Okay. That's a little weird Beesly. Let's see what else you have to say for yourself.)

Jim,

It's 4:08 on Friday afternoon. Time has effectively died. But it's a slow, painful, agonizing death. I'm so bored of everything. Solitaire, Su Doku, nothing sounds appealing. All I can do is stare at your neck. But not in a creepy vampire way, because that's not what I meant. The office is unusually quiet. People have been slipping out all afternoon. Kelly and Ryan left a few minutes ago so now it's even more quiet. but I don't really mind. When it's quiet it lets me think.

(And what exactly are you thinking about? Come on, you can tell me. If this is all you're gonna write to me then why don't you just tell me this stuff in person?)

Jim,

I'm sitting here "taking notes" during Michael's conference calls, and he's driving me crazy. I would wish you were here so that we could laugh about his impression of the Numa Numa guy that he felt the need to do in the middle of a call with one of our biggest vendors, but at the moment I wouldn't wish Michael's presence on anyone.

(I'm so sorry. I've been there before and it's not pretty.)

It's really bizarre how sometimes he can be such a good businessman and other times he's downright psychotic. It makes me wonder how he even-

You know what? Forget Michael. I don't really want to talk about Michael right now. What I'd rather do is say this: I wish there was some way to go back in time.

(You and me both Pam, although probably not for the same reasons)

I think if I could pick any night to relive it would be the one when we kissed.

(Wow. Really? Um... okay)

That probably sounds a little funny, but I swear for the longest time I hated thinking about that night because it felt like that was the night our friendship was officially over. And besides that I felt guilty about kissing you and I also felt, I don't know just confused about everything. It was painful to think about.

(Yeah. I know exactly what you mean.)

But then I realized that if I was careful I could isolate specific moments and only think about those and not everything else that happened as a result. This is completely embarrassing, but sometimes in my head I can still hear you saying that you're in love with me and that you want to be more than just friends. And I hear it over and over. Like the way a song gets stuck in your head and you can't get it out no matter how hard you try.

(Great. That's just great. Nice to know you're repeating one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.)

But the best moment to relive is that kiss.

(Really?)

Why didn't you tell me you could kiss like that?

(Uh... how exactly would I have done that?)

Sorry. I'm laughing in my head now because I'm picturing a conversation where you come up to my desk and say "Hey Pam, did you happen to know that I am a really great kisser?" I realize you'd be a lot smoother than that about it,

(Well, yeah, I would hope so.)

…but seriously, if I had known that it would be like that... I mean, I just... I wish that I had somehow known last year that I wouldn't end up marrying Roy, that in the end we wouldn't end up together.

(Really?)

The truth is that I mostly stayed with him because I didn't know how not to be with him. I didn't even know my self. Roy was just always there and I couldn't imagine my life without him. I'm sorry. I know you probably don't want to hear me talk about Roy.

(Um…okay. Yeah, you’re right; I’d really rather not hear this.)

Oh, wait you're never going to have to because you'll never actually read this.

(Heh. Little do you know Beesly…)

But still, if having to listen to me ramble on about my problems with Roy over the years was anything like me trying to listen to you talk about Karen lately well then you, my friend, are a saint. Then again, if talking about Karen is the only way to keep talking to you then that's what I'll do. Besides I feel like I owe it to you. You really are amazing.

(Wow. Okay. I was not expecting that.)

I hope you know that. I hope Karen tells you every day how incredible you are.

(I'm really not.)

Because you are. I don't know how else to say it, Jim you are... everything.

(Okay. I get it. Thanks. But "everything?" What does that even mean?)

I should probably stop writing or Michael will actually expect me to remember exactly what he just told this customer. So I guess I'll just say, I miss you. Even sitting 10 feet away from you I miss you.

(I miss you too. I can't believe I forgot how much I miss this side of you.)

Your friend always,

Pam

(Friends. Right. We'll always be just friends.)

Jim set the letter down on the counter and stared at the floor for a minute. Maybe accepting Marsha's offer hadn't been the smartest idea after all. He wanted to hear from Pam, but this was starting to feel too familiar. And a little too painful. He put his lunch in the fridge and then headed into the bathroom to compose himself. This was going to be a long day.

-----

When Pam entered the office a few minutes later, she noticed Jim's coat on the rack, but he wasn't at his desk. Against her better judgment, she was about to go looking for him when she saw the envelope tucked under her keyboard. Inside was another typed letter.

Dear Dream Girl,

Today I'm 13. It's weird that I'm a teenager now. I don't really feel very different today than I did yesterday. My mom told me to write something interesting, and she promised not to read it, so I guess I'll tell you about what happened at lunch yesterday.

Well, first I guess I should tell you about Sarah Davies. She's the girl I sit next to in science and she's really cute. I don't think she's the girl of my dreams because my mom says that these letters are supposed to be for the very most important girl I'll ever know, and I don't really like Sarah as much as I used to like Amy Mitchell last year. But Amy moved to Texas over the summer so I probably won't ever see her again.

But yesterday at lunch Sarah came over to my table and gave me a note that was from one of her friends. And it said that she liked me, but there wasn't a signature or anything it just had a question mark. Do you think it was really from one of Sarah's friends or do you think it was from Sarah? I'm not really sure. Girls are hard to understand.

Hopefully you won't be so confusing Dream Girl.

Hey do you like sports? I think I'm gonna try out for the basketball team next year. I played little league for a couple years when I was little but it was kinda boring. I like watching baseball on TV though. My Dad and me always watch the Phillies play and he takes me to a couple games every year. It's really cool. One time we sat really close up to the dugout and we could see all the players and the coaches and everyone. He said maybe sometime we'll go see them at Spring Training which would be great because there's hardly anyone there so you can wait around and get autographs and stuff.

Anyways, this is almost a page now, and I really want to go check out my presents some more.

P.S. I forgot. My mom makes me say this every year. I like you a lot dream girl.

Pam was more than a little confused by this latest letter. She could see now that both were probably just individual parts in a series of letters written by the same person on different years, but this didn't tell her anything more about how they had turned up on her desk. She opened her purse and pulled out the letter she had received on Monday. Yes, the styles were similar, although, it would be easier to tell if the letters were handwritten.

She wondered for a minute about another series of letters that had been on her desk lately. The ones she had been secretly writing to Jim. Could these letters possibly have anything to do with those? She didn't see how it was possible, but if so would that mean that Jim was the one writing these letters? Letters addressed to the girl of his dreams? Or was this somehow just another prank?

"Pammy-la!!! How lovely to see you this morning." Michael's voice startled her and she quickly scooped both letters off her desk and into her still-open purse.

Marsha rolled over in bed. Come on, she told herself, just go back to sleep. It's a Saturday morning and it's not even 10 o'clock yet. Even normal people are still sleeping in right now.

Even though she'd been up later than usual last night, and the night before that, it was hopeless. She turned to her nightstand and pulled a letter off of it. The envelope containing this letter had arrived in her mailbox two days ago, but Marsha still didn't know what she was going to do about it.

Dear Marsha,

I hope this makes it to you okay. I've been trying to call you for a few weeks now, but I haven't been able to get a hold of you. I just wanted to write to let you know that we're concerned about you. Kathy and I have talked it over, and we'd like to invite you to come visit the kids for a while. It's been years since you've spent more than a few hours with them, and I know they'd really enjoy having you. We haven't mentioned it to them yet because we don't want to get their hopes up. Please call me to let me know if you'd like to do this. Don't worry about the plane tickets I can have them ready for you whenever you'd like. Hope to hear from you soon!

Tony

Marsha read over the letter once more and then headed for the shower. When she made it down to the kitchen, she noticed the answering machine light still blinking persistently, but she really wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone. Instead, she took her breakfast into the living room and turned on the TV.

It wasn't that she didn't want to see her kids. Of course she did. She loved her kids more than anything. But it was hard to see them when they always ended up giving her looks that filled her with guilt. They couldn't seem to understand the fact that, when she and Tony had split up, she hadn't even been able to take care of herself; there was no way she could have taken care of them too.

It had been right for them to stay with their dad. He had always been a better parent to them. She was the one who had lain in bed all day with a headache and then snapped at them when they wouldn't leave her alone. And he was the one who had stayed up all night helping Audrey with her science projects and changing Sean's sheets when he wet the bed. And besides, they had a new family now, with Kathy, Tony's second wife. She was sure Kathy was a much better mother to them than she had ever been.

Tony's letter made it sound like the kids would be excited to see her, but she knew better than to believe that. Audrey was almost 18 now. A senior in high school. The last thing she needed was for some woman she hardly knew to come barging into her life. And Sean--he had probably changed beyond all recognition. He was only five at the time of the divorce. She wondered if he could even remember what it was like when they were all together.

She hadn't meant for it to end up like this. But over the years it had become a habit of hers to put off dealing with the issue. Now it was too late to do anything about it. Honestly, they were better off without her.

Later that night as she rummaged through Jim's garbage can in the Dunder-Mifflin office, she couldn't help but remember the look on Jim's face as he had left the coffee shop a little over a week ago. She had seen that look before. It was the one people gave her when they thought she was acting crazy.

She grabbed Jim's letter and read through it quickly before transferring it to Pam's desk. This one had been written when Jim was turning 16 and though it was short, she was amazed by how much Jim had grown since his 13 year-old letter. Did teenagers really change that much in such a short time? Had Audrey changed that much?

She deposited Pam's letter on Jim's desk and then went through Pam's garbage. She didn't see anything right away, so she checked again, more thoroughly this time. But there was nothing. Marsha had gotten so used to always at least finding one letter that this change shook her a little. She had to remind herself that there was probably a perfectly logical explanation for why Pam hadn't written anything. She could have had a very busy week. Or she might just have run out of things to say. Still, it was a bit of a let-down to not get anything from Pam, even just something little.

There was no point in dwelling on it. The rest of the crew had begun to enter the office and Marsha had to get back to work.

-----

Monday morning found Jim hard at work, or at least pretending to be hard at work. Pam's latest letter had been waiting on his desk when he arrived. He had read it in the relative privacy of the men's bathroom, wishing again that there was somewhere else to escape to in the office--knowing he couldn't get away with the roof or the break room. (The former because there were too many memories up there, and the latter because there were too many people who might come in and find him.) Now he was sitting at his desk trying hard not to think about the scrap of paper in his pocket.

The letter had been short. Pam had talked about a picture she was working on for her art class and he had wondered to himself why they didn't talk about those classes more often. Then Pam had gone on to talk about the parking lot of the building and how she remembered little things that had happened there. Her favorite memory, though, surprised him. She had said her favorite memory of the parking lot was standing there with a huge smile on her face right before he had confessed his love for her. Of all the moments to pick as her favorite...

Over the last few days, Jim had found himself thinking about Pam a lot--even more than usual. He was sure now that he still had feelings for Pam. Even after everything he had done to make those feelings to go away: moving to Scranton, long talks with Karen, even Karen herself. Try as he might he just couldn't get over her. Maybe he never would. But that didn't mean he couldn't try to live with it. In fact, he'd been trying for so long now that it had literally become a habit, almost a mantra in his mind. Just don't do it Halpert. Don't think about it. Shut it out. It'll only hurt you more.

For just a moment, though, he couldn't help himself. He let his mind wander. Her letter had ended abruptly. She told him that she hadn't been expecting what happened that night, but nothing more than that. He wondered if these letters would ever become clearer. Up to this point, he had been just as confused by them as he was by Pam herself. All he knew for sure was that Pam missed their friendship.

He missed it too, but he didn't ever want things to go back to the way they were. If he couldn't have her as his... what? his girlfriend? Well, yes, but this was more serious than just a girlfriend. He'd had lots of girlfriends. He wanted more than that with Pam. He wanted... everything.

He stared blankly at the spreadsheet in front of him. His eyes lost focus, the screen in front of him becoming just a blur. All he could see was a little girl running to him. A little girl with curly brown pigtails, bright green eyes, and Pam's smile. That was what he wanted.

As his eyes came back into focus he noticed the looks he was getting from both Karen and Dwight. He smiled ruefully to himself. This was exactly the reason he never let himself daydream at work.

-----

Pam's eyes were on Jim and she wondered what face he must be making to be getting those looks from Dwight and Karen. In her hands was another letter.

Dear Girl of My Dreams,

It's my sixteenth birthday today. My Dad was talking about giving me his old car, and getting himself a new one, but he hasn't actually done it yet, so my biggest present was a new suit. My grandparents bought it for me to wear when I go to church with them. Even though that's only like three times a year. It actually doesn't look that bad considering my grandpa picked it out, but it's made of this weird material that itches like crazy.

I was reading through some of these dream girl letters the other day when my mom started bugging me about writing one this year, and they're actually pretty funny. I kind of wish now that I hadn't "lost" the ones I wrote when I was younger. All I remember is that I was obsessed with what you looked like and I think I wrote one about how much I wished I was getting a puppy for my birthday.

I don't really have much to say this year, but I hope you're doing well. I kind of wish we were friends already because I don't really talk to girls that much now. I used to have a girlfriend in middle school, and I went on a few dates my freshman year, but not anymore. I don't really know any girls that I would want to ask out. It seems like all the girls at my school are either stuck-up snobs or just freaks. Sometimes girls are good to have around though, just to talk to. I mean, you can't talk to guys like you can to girls, you know?

I guess I could try talking to my sisters, but they're pretty busy doing their own thing most of the time. And besides that they'd probably just laugh at me.

Well, that's about it for this year. I'll talk to you when I'm seventeen.

Love,

The guy you're supposed to be dreaming about

She was still so confused about these letters. She couldn't think of any explanation for them except Jim. But that was crazy, Jim? Writing her letters as a teenager? Or signing them 'love'?Or calling her his dream girl?? Jim had made it very clear lately that the only girl he was dreaming about was Karen. And if Jim had been in on this prank, if it was a prank, then she would have been able to tell. Not even Jim was a good enough actor to keep her from noticing the telltale signs he let show whenever he was pulling a prank on someone. Or at least he had never been able to keep her from noticing them before.

She read over the letter one more time. It was sweet, whoever had written it, and she could picture Jim at 16 being a lot like this kid, but without any other evidence, she wasn't about to bring it up to him.

Maybe she should just wait for something else. Some hint that would tell her how to proceed. If this was a game, then she wanted to know what the rules were. It was only fair to know what you were getting yourself into before you decided to play.

-----

Three hours later, and only a few miles away, Marsha was just getting home from her weekly trip to the grocery store. They had been out of her favorite flavor of ice cream, but it was probably just as well. Lately she hadn't had much of an appetite. She grabbed the bags from the backseat and stopped by the mailbox on her way inside. The sun was out, but the air was still chilly and her gloves made it difficult to unlock the front door.

She dropped her armload on the kitchen counter and flipped through the bills and coupons from the mail. On the bottom of the pile was a small envelope addressed in purple ink. Her whole body froze. She knew that return address.

Dear Mom,

Dad and I have been talking about you lately and Dad thinks it would be a good idea for me to write you a letter so that I can explain to you how I'm feeling. He told me about the letter that he sent you a few days ago, and that you haven't been returning his calls. I wish you would Mom. I'm worried about you. I hate that you don't ever call anymore. It's not right. I know you think you failed with us, but you didn't. We still love you. You'll always be part of our family. Please come visit us! We miss you.

Love,

Audrey

The shock waves rippled through her mind as the tears started to fall. Audrey. Audrey, her baby girl. Audrey, who had giggled so hard whenever Marsha tickled her. Audrey, who used to lisp her way through every story book when she was learning to read. Audrey, who had cried for days when her hamster died. Audrey, who missed her now and still loved her in spite of everything. What kind of a horrible mother was she?

It took her less than thirty seconds to reach the phone and within twenty minutes Tony had booked her a flight to San Francisco for the very next day. A few hours later she had finished packing. Now there was just one more thing to take care of before she left.

She carefully folded each of Pam's remaining letters into the envelope and then re-read her note to Jim one last time just to be sure it was right.

Dear Jim,

I realize you've probably been confused by my arrangement so far, and I'm sorry if I've done anything to make your situation with Pam worse than it already is. I think the contents of this package will make it clear that I was only ever interested in helping you, and that if I wasn't as forthcoming as you would have liked, it was simply because I wanted to protect Pam.

But I'm leaving town tonight on family business and I don't know when I'll be back. So, I just wanted to tell you that I've been getting Pam's letters from her trash can when I cleaned there, so that's where you'll be able to find more of them, if you want to look. Also, I have to confess that I've been leaving your dream girl letters on Pam's desk. I hope you won't be too upset with me about that. I know I really shouldn't have interfered, but I felt like something had to be done, and this was the only thing I could think to do.

Jim, I'm trusting you to do the right thing with the letters in this envelope, I wish I had more time to make sure that you would, but I hope and think that you will. I know that I don't know you very well, but I just wanted to say this: don't ever give up a chance at real love. Believe me; you may never have another one.

Wishing you both the best,

Marsha Platz

When the sun rose over Scranton on Tuesday morning, Marsha was on her way to the west coast and the envelope addressed to Jim was in the mailbox.

Monday and Tuesday came and went and Pam was still scratching her head over those letters. By Wednesday she had decided to just ask Jim about them--but casually, like they were no big deal. Maybe his reaction will give him away, she thought. And if the letters weren't coming from Jim, then at least she would know that, and she would be able to keep herself from getting little tingly chills every time she read "Love, The guy you're supposed to be dreaming about."

Was it completely ridiculous that she was getting chills over a letter that had been written by a sixteen-year-old? Probably. But if they were from Jim...

She turned back to her unusually cluttered desk with a sigh. Michael had been strangely productive in the last couple of days, and that meant she had some actual work to do this morning. She hoped this productivity wasn't a reflection of the fact that he was dating Jan, because if it kept up, her Sudoku scores would definitely start to suffer.

She tried to focus on her work, but in her head she spent the morning practicing dialogue. She wanted to bring it up naturally, so Jim wouldn't think she was being strange if he really knew nothing about it. She had decided to ask him at lunch. She knew Karen had plans to meet with a client for a business lunch and she didn't know when she'd get a better opportunity.

-----

Jim munched on his sandwich, trying not to think about the way Pam had smiled at him as he had left his desk to eat lunch. The break room was unusually crowded; it seemed like Karen was the only one who had left the office that day. Almost everyone else was crowded around Kevin and Kelly who had gotten in an argument over which American Pie movie was better. Sadly, it seemed that everyone from Michael and Meredith to Creed and even Oscar felt the need to weigh in on this critical issue. Jim just sighed and took another bite of tuna.

He was staring at the clock, calculating the number of minutes before he could reasonably expect to leave for the day without getting scolded by Dwight, when Pam walked in, holding a brown paper bag and a can of grape soda. He didn't realize it, but his breath caught, and it wasn't until she sank into the chair opposite his that he remembered to start breathing again.

He silently reprimanded himself; grape soda could mean anything. And the break room was crowded. There was no reason to think she wanted to be with him just because she had sat down at his table. Ever since he had started reading Pam's letters, it was becoming harder and harder to be around her without feeling things that he had sworn he would never let himself feel again.

Without realizing it, he frowned slightly. He couldn't do this. He couldn't let himself get so caught up in her. If he let himself think about her like that, there would be no turning back this time--he would have to have her, or he'd go insane.

But he had Karen now; he just couldn't let it happen, no matter how much he might secretly want to. So even in something as simple as a conversation over lunch in the middle of the break room, he was determined not to be the one to make the first move.

-----

She had meant it as a peace offering--or at least a conversation starter--but as she twisted the tab on the soda can, she couldn't escape the slight scowl on Jim's face. Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

Jim looked away when she met his glance and Pam was just about to get up and leave when she heard herself talking instead.

"Hey. Are you mad at me?"

"What? No," he said, though she noticed he was still scowling. "Why would you think that?"

"Nothing. Sorry. Never mind." She felt the conversation slacken again, and she knew she had to ask him now, or she'd never go through with it.

"So, hey," she began, and when he looked up and she held his eyes for just a second before lowering them back down to the table.

"Um...the weirdest thing has been happening lately," she quickly blurted out before she could stop herself again.

"Really?" She wasn't sure, but she could've sworn he sounded relieved that she'd resumed the conversation.

"Yeah. I, um, I've been getting these letters for the past couple of weeks..."

When he didn't respond she checked his face for a reaction, but the look he wore was guarded, with an overlay of confusion. He still didn't say anything, so she knew she'd have to keep talking if she wanted to get to the bottom of this.

"Uh, yeah. It's so bizarre. They've just been lying on my desk when I come in to work, and the weirdest thing is that they're not signed or anything. They're from some guy, though, and they're addressed to his dream girl. But he must have written them a long time ago, because they're from him as a teenager or something. It's really strange..." she trailed off, hoping he'd jump in with some sort of reply.

"Huh," he said finally. "That does sound weird. Um, I'd better get back to work. But, hey, good luck with that."

"Oh. Okay." She would've added something about talking to him later, but he was already out the door.

Pam just sat there for a few minutes, absently tracing the top of the soda can with her finger, trying to figure out what his reaction--or lack thereof--meant. I must have been wrong, she concluded. Those letters aren't from Jim.

She tried to keep the disappointment from showing on her face, and even managed a small smile when Angela sat down next to her, mumbling under her breath about the "practically pornographic" movies that certain people felt the need to discuss in a public workplace.

She shouldn't have gotten her hopes up. Thinking those letters were from Jim had been stupid. You are so pathetic, Beesly. Why can't you get that he doesn't want you?

-----

Staring at himself thirty seconds later in the men's room mirror, Jim tried to wipe off the deer-in-headlights look that had been plastered on his face since he left the break room.

She knows. She knows everything! What am I going to do now? Marsha! How could she do this to me! I thought we had a deal. I can't believe she gave Pam my letters. What was in those letters??? I have to stop this. What am I going to tell Pam? His thoughts kept racing and he groaned aloud a few times, thankful that no one else was around to hear.

After a few minutes his panic had died down, and he knew he'd have to go back out there. With a sigh, he opened the door and managed to make it to his desk without running into anyone. He couldn't help glancing at Pam's desk, but it was empty. She was probably still on her lunch break.

All afternoon he kept his eyes trained studiously on his monitor. He thought if he could just make it to five o'clock without having to talk to Pam again, he could get home and try to figure out what to do next. He got an email from Karen at 4:30, inviting him to get drinks later, but he knew that if he went he’d just end up spending the whole night obsessing about those letters. He sent back something about not feeling well, and did his best to ignore the guilt in his gut when she came over with a hug and offers to nurse him back to health.

He knew she was just trying to be nice, that she was trying to be a good girlfriend, even when he was basically treating her like crap. But right now, he couldn't stomach the idea of pretending to enjoy her company when what he really needed to do was figure out what was going on with Pam.

How had his life gotten so screwed up? He never should have let his curiosity to see Pam's letters drive him to agree to Marsha's plan. He should have known Marsha was crazy, that she would end up giving his dream girl letters to Pam, just like she was delivering Pam's letters to him.

As soon as he got home, he called Marsha, but he just got her answering machine. He tried to sound calm as he left her a message, urging her to call him back as soon as possible, but the panic had returned as soon as he left the office, and he knew she would probably be able to tell from his tone that something was wrong.

He called her eight more times that night, and left two more messages. Marsha never picked up.

Around midnight he gave up and spent a few hours telling himself to fall asleep, but even as he kicked at the sheets in frustration, he was unable to keep thoughts of Pam out of his mind long enough to relax.

When his alarm went off, he suddenly realized that it was Thursday morning. He sat up in bed with a jolt. He hadn't remembered it until then, but Marsha had been scheduled to clean the office last night. He raced to the shower, determined to make it into work before anyone else. He just hoped that the letter Marsha had surely left him would prove more illuminating than the others. With any luck, it would give him a clue as to how to proceed, now that he knew Pam was getting his letters.

But when he got to work, there was nothing on his desk. Not even an acknowledgement from Marsha that she had gotten his messages or a note about the fact that he had failed to leave a dream girl letter.

He hadn't forgotten about the letter from himself at age twenty that he had typed up on Tuesday night. At the time, he had enjoyed the process of going over his old letter, correcting the spelling, and turning the practically illegible handwriting into a crisp typed epistle, that would ensure another letter from Pam.

But after his conversation with Pam yesterday, he hadn’t wanted to give Marsha another chance to make things worse. Until he found out exactly what was happening to the letters that he had been putting in the garbage, he wouldn’t be leaving any more of them.

And apparently Marsha had responded in kind; he checked again, under his keyboard, beneath his desk, even in his own garbage can. But the can was empty. Marsha hadn't left anything. Now what?

-----

Pam knew something was wrong with Jim, but she couldn't bring herself to ask him what it was. Their conversation yesterday had been awkward, to say the least, and though she wanted to help him, she felt like things were still a little weird between them, and she didn’t want to make it any worse. For her part, Karen hadn't seemed to notice anything unusual in Jim’s behavior. In fact the rest of the office seemed completely oblivious to the tension in his posture that was so apparent to Pam from where she sat.

He'd hardly moved all morning, and it was making her nervous. Maybe he was sick. Maybe she should go say something. As much as she wanted to though, her courage had been used up by yesterday's conversation. Instead, she settled on something familiar. Picking up her blue pen and the little tablet of paper she used for taking notes, she began to write.

Dear Jim,

I hope you're okay. You don't look like you're having a good day, and I wish there was something I could do to help, but you've been so distant lately... I know that shouldn't matter. I guess if I was really your friend I'd go over there and try to cheer you up, just like you used to do for me when Roy was being a jerk.

Sometimes I still can't believe you could do that. How could you be such a good friend to me when you really wanted more? I guess maybe you weren't always in love with me. That would make more sense anyway, because I can't understand how you could possibly be in love with me the whole time we were friends, and not do something about it sooner. Not when we were so close.

So when did you start loving me? In case you're interested, I think I've loved you ever since you showed me the bonus presents inside my teapot. Of course, I spent months denying it to myself. But if I think about it, that's the first time I really... knew.

Anyway, this is hardly appropriate to be telling you under the circumstances, (Karen just stopped by to ask for her messages) but I guess the fact that you have a girlfriend hasn't stopped me so far, so I'll just say I loved you then and I love you even more now, and if there's anything I can do for you, I hope you'll let me do it.

Always yours,

Pam

-----

Friday was one of the longest days of Jim's life. He still hadn't heard anything from Marsha, and he knew that Karen was getting more and more upset about the fact that he wouldn't tell her what was bugging him. By lunchtime Karen had stopped speaking to him altogether. He dreaded the conversations he'd have to endure as penance, but he still didn't feel like pretending that everything was fine, so he let it slide for now.

Finally, the afternoon was over and without even pausing to talk to Karen or Pam, Jim hurried downstairs and across the parking lot to his car.

His apartment was dim with the blinds closed, and he felt exhausted. As much as he wanted to just fall asleep, he knew he wouldn't be able to do it if he tried, so instead, he changed out of his suit and into some jeans and an old sweater. He tried calling Marsha one more time, but--although it frustrated him--he wasn't that surprised when she still didn't answer.

He passed the kitchen table on his way to the couch and picked up the stack of bills and ads he'd collected from his mailbox. Plopping down on the couch, he leafed through them. He was about to turn on the TV when he noticed a thick, manila envelope in the stack of mail.

The handwriting on it seemed vaguely familiar, and the return address was in Scranton. He opened up the envelope and took out a stack of papers. On top was a letter from Marsha.

Jim quickly reread the note from Marsha before setting it down on the coffee table and turning to the stack of papers in his hand. He couldn't believe that Marsha had found this many letters from Pam; he couldn't wait to see what they contained.

The first letter was fairly short, but from the moment he saw Pam’s greeting: "My Jim," all the way until she mentioned kissing him on the back of his neck, Jim could feel his pulse speeding up.

By the time he reached the last line, he could feel a distinct burning sensation exactly where she had said she wanted to kiss him. Maybe this wasn't right. He knew that if Pam could see him now, there would be no way she would want him to keep reading.

But Pam wasn't here. And this was the only way he knew to figure out what she was thinking, the only way to really understand how she had been feeling lately. Besides, some part of Pam must have wanted him to get these letters, right? Why would she have gone to all the trouble of writing them out and then throwing them away if she had never meant to tell him any of this?

He couldn't help himself; he turned to the next letter.

Dear person who makes me laugh harder than anyone in the world...

Jim smiled as he continued reading. Dwight, women, sex, and chocolate. It was exactly the kind of moment she would have been dying to share with him back when they were still best friends. When he made it to the part where she said, "Suck on that Halpert!" he couldn't help but grin in a way that would have turned into a genuine chuckle if he hadn't been so engrossed in the letter. He was so stunned by her next line, though, that he couldn't think of anything else.

Jim gasped. Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!

He set the letter down for a minute. This was... this was not the Pam he knew. At least he was sure Pam had never talked to him this way. He may have overheard a few conversations between this particular Pam and Roy, but now...

For just a second, he imagined himself with Pam--imagined what it could be like. This letter was proof that she wanted him. Wasn't it?

He scanned it again. Yes. Yes it was.

His eyes glazed over, and he could almost feel her skin against his fingertips as he brushed her curls out of the way and turned her face up to his. He lowered his lips toward hers and stopped to just look at her expression for a moment. She was so happy. He couldn't remember seeing her that happy ever. In that moment he had all the time in the world, and there was no need to convince her of anything...

His eyes shot open when he heard his phone begin to ring. He scrambled to his feet looking around frantically for his cell. It took him a second to find it in his bag.

"Hey Karen," he answered, having checked the caller id first.

"How's my invalid doing?"

"Uh... not, I mean, um... I'm not really doing anything. Why do you ask?" The guilt in his voice was audible.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Sorry." Jim nearly smacked his forehead with his hand. He was pacing his living room at this point. Play it cool, Halpert. You weren't technically doing anything wrong.

"Sorry, hon," he continued, "I was, uh, I was a little confused. I'm fine, though. How are you?"

Oh good, she just thinks I'm crazy. That's good. Wait--what? "What did you just say?" he asked.

"I am coming over to see you in a couple of hours.” she repeated slowly, like the fact that he was supposedly “sick” had somehow turned him into a third-grader.

“I have some shopping to do, but I want to come see if you're okay. I'll bring you something to make you feel better, okay? What do you want?"

Jim’s eyes froze on the stack of papers that were sitting on his coffee table. She can't come over here! Pam's letters are here!

"No, really, you don't have to do that."

"I want to, though. I'll call you from the grocery store, okay? Keep thinking about what you want."

I want you to leave me alone so I can figure out what to do about all this! He was trying to come up with a better reply when he noticed that Karen had already hung up.

Crap! I really can't deal with this right now. Maybe I should just stop reading Pam's letters. I'll go talk to her instead. I'll make her tell me everything. This is crazy! How did we end up like this?

His plan already forgotten, he sank back onto the couch and read that letter from the beginning. When he finished it, he quickly picked up the next one in the stack.

From that point on, he didn’t even give himself any time to process what he was reading, or let it sink in at all. He just had to keep going, to find out what was in each one. The only time he paused was when he saw that, almost out of the blue, Pam had written “Mr. and Mrs. Jim and Pam Halpert.”

Wow. Frankly, what amazed him the most was how little he was shocked. Pam had basically just admitted that she wanted to marry him and, as he kept thinking about it, he realized he was fine with that. Better than fine, actually. Even after everything that had happened, in this moment of bizarre clarity, he knew that, deep down, he had always wanted that, too. And, somehow, he still did.

But what a way to find out! How was he going to fix this? It wasn’t like he could just come into the office on Monday and say, “Hey Pam! How’s it going? Oh, by the way, I read your letters, and, uh--turns out I want to marry you, too! What do you think? You, Me, Vegas? We could leave right now! Just wait here for a second while I go dump my girlfriend first.”

Right. Because that would work out soooo well.

With a sigh, he turned to the last three letters in the stack. They were sweet and lighthearted. So typical of the Pam he used to be best friends with, but so unlike the Pam he had seen at work lately.

He wondered when Pam had written the last one. In it, she mentioned being worried about him and wanting to be part of his prank on Dwight.

Oh--right, he thought. He recalled the look she had given him when he had asked about the cleaning crew’s schedule a while back. He had wanted to know because he needed to arrange something with Marsha and his dream girl letters, but he remembered thinking at the time that Pam probably suspected it had to do with another prank on Dwight.

Somehow, connecting those two moments—his asking, and Pam’s writing this last letter—made everything about the situation seem so much more real. He still couldn’t believe that this was all really happening. He couldn’t believe Pam had actually written to him so openly while sitting at her desk at work. The entire thing was just too surreal.

He set the last letter on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch for a minute. He closed his eyes, willing himself to focus on exactly what was going on, but as he tried to wrap his head around the situation, he kept thinking of phrases from Pam’s letters.

I don’t want to keep denying it to myself…I love you…Pam Halpert…Lying in your bed…I’d kiss you goodnight…you’ll never read these letters…pretending we were still friends…I just happen to be secretly in love with you…If we ever do get engaged…Darling Jim…You’re still my best friend…I’d love you forever…too many awkward conversations…kiss you senseless…I have always loved having you around…come to my rescue…

It wasn’t until he heard the knock on the door that he realized he had dozed off.

“Jim?” Karen called through the door, as the knocking continued. And then his phone started ringing; he glanced at the caller id and noticed that Karen was calling him from the doorstep, which meant she had probably been there for a while.

Holy crap. This was not going to go well.

“Hey, hold on just a sec, I’ll be right there!” he shouted in the direction of the front door. Frantically, he scooped up Pam’s letters and looked around for a place to hide them.

This felt so wrong. He wondered for a second if this was what Pam felt like after he kissed her.

“What’s up with you? It took you like ten minutes to get the door.” Karen sounded more than a little annoyed.

“I was, um, changing. Sorry,” he managed.

“Hey, it’s not like I haven’t seen it all before,” she pointed out, giving him an amused glance. “So, are you feeling better yet? Because I was hoping maybe you’d feel up to some Chinese take-out. Oh, and I checked the TV guide earlier, and it looks like we should have a pretty good selection of movies to mock tonight.”

She pulled him down onto the couch with her as she spoke and kissed him softly before he could come up with any sort of reply.

“Of course, if you’re still not feeling well, I could think of a few ways to help remedy that…” she murmured against his lips.

“Karen,” he began.

“What?” she whispered, still only a few inches away from him.

“I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I don’t want to…I can’t be with you anymore.”

“You’re kidding, right?” The laughing look in her eyes just made this so much harder. But he really couldn’t do it anymore, not when he knew how Pam felt about him. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do about his situation with Pam, but he couldn’t do anything with Karen still in the picture. It wouldn’t be fair to her or him--or Pam.

“No,” he said as gently as he could. “I’m not kidding. I’m really sorry, but I just…can’t… I don’t feel… I don’t…”

“Stop. Just stop. You’re not even making sense. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I want to break up with you.”

He could hear Karen’s breath as she exhaled, but he couldn’t tell if that was a sign of anger or just surprise. Or maybe both.

“Karen…it really has nothing to do with you, I promise. It’s me, this is all me, this is… completely my fault.” He waited for her to say something, but she seemed to be in shock. She had moved across the couch as he was talking and now she sat at the other end, completely still.

“You…you’re amazing,” he continued, “and I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me, really, but I just--”

“Give me a reason,” she interrupted.

“What?”

“This isn’t just coming out of the blue, Jim. What happened today? What’s been happening all week? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I…”

“Why can’t you just be honest with me? Just once?” she pleaded, her voice tinged with bitterness, and the tears he could tell she was holding in.

“Karen…” This was so hard. “I--I don’t have a good reason, I just…”

“Bull-shit, Jim!” she shot back angrily. “You can’t just say something like this and expect me to walk away quietly. Do you really not get it? I moved here to be with you. I have done everything I could think of to make this work! And now you’re saying you just want to give all that up, without even telling me why?”

“Okay! I know! I know you’ve done all that, but I never…” he paused. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t see any way to be honest without bringing up Pam.

“What?” she asked.

He took a deep breath. If he could just slow this down for a minute, maybe he could think. Everything was happening so fast: Pam’s letters, breaking up with Karen. He hadn’t even had a minute to stop and consider what he was doing.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked suddenly.

“What?”

“Just stay there for a minute. I’ll be right back, okay?” He didn’t even wait for her to reply before walking into the kitchen. He had planned to just get her a glass of water, but as he stood next to the counter for a minute, he realized his heart was still racing with the tension of everything that was happening, so he headed to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and try to calm himself down a little bit.

By the time he made it back to the living room, Karen was calmly waiting for him on the couch.

“Sorry--” he began. But before he could get any further Karen held up piece of paper.

“What’s this?” she asked, the calm in her voice scaring him even more than her yelling had a few minutes before.

Jim was speechless. He had hidden Pam’s letters in a box in the hall closet, but he had forgotten all about Marsha’s note.

He cringed as Karen began to read it out loud, and by the time she made it to the last paragraph his head was reeling again.

Dear Jim,

I realize you've probably been confused by my arrangement so far, and I'm sorry if I've done anything to make your situation with Pam worse than it already is. I think the contents of this package will make it clear that I was only ever interested in helping you, and that if I wasn't as forthcoming as you would have liked, it was simply because I wanted to protect Pam.

But I'm leaving town tonight on family business and I don't know when I'll be back. So, I just wanted to tell you that I've been getting Pam's letters from her trash can when I cleaned there, so that's where you'll be able to find more of them, if you want to look. Also, I have to confess that I've been leaving your dream girl letters on Pam's desk. I hope you won't be too upset with me about that. I know I really shouldn't have interfered, but I felt like something had to be done, and this was the only thing I could think to do.

Jim, I'm trusting you to do the right thing with the letters in this envelope, I wish I had more time to make sure that you would, but I hope and think that you will. I know that I don't know you very well, but I just wanted to say this: don't ever give up a chance at real love. Believe me; you may never have another one.

Wishing you both the best,

Marsha Platz

Karen looked up at him expectantly when she finished.

"Well?" Karen prompted.

"Um, Karen-I, uh-I don't know what to say."

"Are you seeing Pam?" she asked, point-blank.

"What? No! No, no, no, definitely not."

"But you're in love with her," she stated. "You're writing her letters addressed to your dream girl? What is...going on? And-who's Marsha Platz?"

"Just, just-let me explain. I swear I didn't know..." Jim sighed in frustration. He hadn't anticipated that Pam's letters would be so open, and now he was feeling like he had done something wrong, when really all he'd been trying to do was re-connect with his best friend.

"Okay, fine," she said tersely. "Explain."

"I... I came into work one day," Jim began. "This was about two weeks ago, and there was this envelope on my desk with a note from a woman I had never met before, named Marsha. She said that she works on the cleaning crew, and that she'd been finding letters addressed to me from Pam, and she wanted to know if I was interested in seeing them. She had also left one of Pam's letters in the envelope."

He paused in his narrative, anticipating some sort of reaction from Karen, but all she did was nod cautiously, as if she really was determined to hear him out before she decided how to respond.

"So I met up with her for coffee and we talked about the letters, and then she said if I wanted to see more of Pam's letters I would have to trade her for letters from me to Pam."

Karen's eyebrows rose at this, but she silently gestured to him to continue.

"I wasn't going to do it, but then I thought about these letters that my mom made me write as a little kid..."

Jim went on to explain how he had begun to leave his letters for Marsha, but that he'd had no idea that Marsha would be giving them to Pam. When he finished, Karen seemed to be processing it all, but then she looked up at him with sad eyes and he felt his heart sink a little bit with guilt. He never should have let things get this far.

"So...what now?" Karen asked.

"I can't...I mean, I don't want to keep pretending."

"So that's all this has been for you?" Karen's voice sounded more tired than angry at this point. "You've just been pretending to want to be with me, when really this whole time you've been in love with Pam?"

"No! That's not what I meant, it's just..." He stopped when he noticed the tears that had begun to fall down Karen's face. "Karen, I'm so sorry. I honestly never meant to hurt you."

"Right," Karen huffed indignantly, wiping viciously at her tears.

"Believe me, I-" he tried to continue pleading with her, but Karen stood up and started walking toward the door of his apartment.

"I have to go Jim. I--I never would have thought you were capable of..." she trailed off, as she looked into his eyes for a minute. Her face held a mixture of pain, anger, shock and betrayal. Jim couldn't look away, but he felt physically sick at the thought of what she must be feeling.

"I have to go," she repeated as much to herself as to him.

"Okay," he said, wanting to say something-anything-to make her feel better, but knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do.

"Jim, just don't try to call me or anything, okay? I need some time to myself."

"Of course," he replied as respectfully as he could. "Bye, Karen."

"Good-bye, Jim."

-----

Jim spent Saturday morning alternating between rereading Pam's letters and feeling guilty about what had happened with Karen. He still couldn't figure out how he was supposed to proceed with Pam, but he knew for a fact that he couldn't keep denying what he had felt for her for so long. But as much as he wanted to rush over and tell Pam everything, he wasn't sure that was the best approach to take.

First of all, Pam didn't know for sure that it was him sending her the dream girl letters. Sure she had her suspicions, but it was highly possible she still didn't know for sure that they were coming from him--albeit indirectly and without his knowledge. And if she didn't know they were from him, it would probably be a complete shock to her to have him show up unannounced to declare his love (again).

Second, there was still the very real possibility that Karen would somehow interfere or make a scene, so he thought it might be best to wait until things were settled between them before he made a move on Pam. Besides, he had honestly liked Karen a lot, and didn't want to hurt her even more by getting publicly involved with Pam while she was around. Jim didn't know whether she'd stay in Scranton or leave, but either way-he knew it was going to be awkward if he tried to pursue Pam right now.

Third, Pam was probably going to be more than a little upset if she realized he had actually seen all of the letters she'd been writing to him. But maybe if he could convince her first that he returned her feelings, she wouldn't be quite as angry about it. The last thing he wanted to do was start off their relationship-if they made it to the relationship point-with a fight about how he should have just returned all her letters without reading them.

And finally, he'd waited years for this opportunity-to finally have confirmation of Pam's feelings. After last May, he had been fairly confident that it would never come. So now that it had and he could finally pursue Pam, he wanted to make it perfect. Besides, he thought, he'd waited so long that at this point a few more days wouldn't make much difference.

He'd spent his whole day in a state of limbo, but even though he still didn't know exactly how the next few days were going to turn out, he knew there was at least one thing he could do right now to be a little closer to Pam.

He opened the door to the office with the key Michael had given him when he had come back to Scranton. It was strange to see the office so quiet in the middle of the day. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in on a Saturday. He walked over to Pam's desk and paused for a minute sliding his arms over the counter. So much had changed for him in the relatively few hours since he had been here last. He tried to process it all, but being here just seemed to make it all seem unreal.

He turned to survey the rest of the office. His desk seemed much closer to hers with no one else around, strangely. It struck him as ironic that he and Pam had been so physically close to each other for so long, and still hadn't been able to be close in the ways that really mattered.

After a few more minutes, he was starting to feel a little silly about just standing there, so he went around Pam's desk to the garbage can underneath and rifled through it until he was sure he'd checked every piece of paper. There were two letters in it from Pam.

The first was sweet and soothing. Pam had noticed that he had been acting funny, and in her letter, she offered to do anything she could to make him feel better. Jim sighed, rather than focus on the things he couldn't have yet, he decided to read the second letter.

My Dear Jim,

I want you. I know that might sound a little dirty, but today I just can't help it. I don't think you have any idea how much I'm in love with your arms and your lips and your eyes and your hair. I mean, seriously? Do you know how attractive you are?

Okay, I'll stop. I'd never tell you this in real life, of course. I wouldn't want you to get a big head. But yeah, I really, really want you. All the time. Every day. Right now, in fact.

Anyway, I wish I had time to write more, but I think Dwight's starting to suspect something. He keeps coming over here to ask if he's gotten any new messages. Probably part of his new crackdown on worker efficiency. (Imagine me rolling my eyes.)

Jim, I wish I could tell you that I want you and that I love you, that I need you, but since I can't quite yet, I'll just keep writing this way.

Love always,

Pam

P.S. and your chin, and your legs, and your chest, and your teeth, and your smile, and your laugh, and the way your eyebrows shoot up when you look at Dwight... basically I love everything about you.

Jim's forehead hit Pam's desk. This was just cruel. More than anything, he wanted to drive over to her apartment right now and tease her about loving his eyebrows. With a resigned sigh, he headed back downstairs to his car. At least he knew it wouldn't be too much longer before he could show Pam just how much he wanted her too.

-----

When he got back to his apartment later that evening, he was greeted by a box on his doorstep and piece of paper stuck in the door. He recognized Karen's clean, fluid handwriting, and for just a second it struck him how different hers was from Pam's. The difference was especially noticeable since he'd spent so much time over the last twenty-four hours poring over Pam's letters.

Jim,

I would appreciate it if you wouldn't talk to me this week. I'll be leaving Friday morning, so until then could you please try not to humiliate me in front of the entire office? Not that I really care what you Scranton-branch folks think of me, but I'd rather not make a big deal out of this. Please, just wait to throw yourself on Pam until after I leave, okay? I think that's the least you can do.

There's a lot more I want to say to you, but honestly you're just not worth it to me.

Karen

He opened up the box to find a few of his things that he had left at Karen's. Considering how long they had been together, it occurred to him that there wasn't much in there. He glanced through it quickly, feeling sorry for Karen. He wished he could've been there for her in the way she deserved, but he realized now that even without Pam, she wouldn't have been the right girl for him. Maybe it was better for everyone that they hadn't ever been as close as he knew she had wanted them to be.

-----

On Monday morning, Pam began her day early. Her weekend had been nice, but a little lonely, and sad as it was, she found herself craving company even from the people in her office. And she also wondered if there would be another letter today.

There wasn't anything on her desk when she arrived, and the morning progressed as normally as any morning involving Michael ever could. By two-thirty, she had a 15-game winning streak on FreeCell, and nothing left to do for the day, except answer the phone.

She absently reached into the drawer where she kept the notebook and pen she used to write to Jim, eyes still trained on her monitor, but as she did so, her hand felt a piece of loose paper. She looked down to find another letter.

Pam looked around to make sure no one was coming. When she was satisfied that she wouldn't be bothered, she read it once quickly, and then again, more slowly. If these letters weren't coming from Jim, then she wanted to see if there was any clue in them that would reveal their author--whomever he was.

Dear Dream Girl,

Today I'm turning 20. I'm in college now, and I don't really spend a lot of time thinking about you, but I guess maybe I should, because the really weird thing is that some of my friends are already starting to think about getting married and settling down. A couple of the girls I knew in high school already have kids. It's really scary to think about.

Not that it would be scary to meet you or anything. It's just that I don't think I'm ready to make that kind of a commitment. Maybe in five or ten years or so. It's not that I don't want to grow up. I remember when I was little my dad always used to talk about "someday when you become a husband and a father," and I remember thinking that it all sounded great, but I just don't think I'm ready for that yet.

What about you? Are you thinking about me? Or maybe you're younger than I am, so you're still in high school or something. I hope you're not too much younger, because if you're still in middle school that'd be pretty gross. Okay, now I'm definitely creeped out.

I'll talk to you more next year.

Love,

Your Dream Guy

-----

Tuesday progressed in much the same way, though Pam noticed Jim seemed quite a bit more relaxed than he had on Monday or the week before. She wondered if he had been fighting with Karen last week, and now they had made up. Usually when they made up, though, she could tell by the increase in the number of times their public displays of affection made her want to gag.

That couldn't be it though, because today they seemed even more distant than usual. In fact, when she thought about it at lunch, she couldn't remember seeing them talk to each other all morning. They had both gone out for lunch, but truthfully she couldn't say if they had gone together or separately. She made a mental note to ask Jim about it the next time she got a chance.

When she returned to her desk, she found a piece of paper folded up on her chair. She opened it up and was surprised to see another letter. She had never gotten one two days in a row before.

Dear Girl of My Dreams,

I think I might know who you are this year. Oh, I'm turning 23 by the way. But yeah, I may have actually met you already. That's probably kind of strange to hear from a 23-year-old, but sometimes you just know, you know?

And there's this girl I've been dating for awhile, I won't put her name in here because I wouldn't want to jinx it, but I think you might be her. I haven't exactly gotten that feeling of she's The One, but it's close to that. I mean, she's great. She's funny and smart and really good-looking and she's got all these ideas about what she wants to do with her life after she graduates in a few months. She's really ambitious.

Sometimes I can't believe someone so great wants to be with me as much as I want to be with her. She's just so... great.

I love you, sweetie.

Love,

Your Man

Pam looked around the office for a minute, wondering who in the world had left this for her. Maybe this had all been a mistake, she thought. She wondered if the person delivering the letters had gotten her confused with someone else.

For a wild second she even thought maybe the letters were from Roy, but that wasn't possible. She would have known already if they had been from him. Roy wasn't much of a writer, but she'd be able to tell if he'd written the letters. This definitely wasn't him.

Shaking her head, she reread the letter once more. This was the most puzzling one so far. Why would anyone give her a letter about a girl he fell in love with at 23? The only guy she'd been interested in at 23 was Roy, and she'd already established that these letters weren't from him.

The only logical solution was one she wouldn't even allow herself to consider. Still... "I wouldn't want to jinx it."? That sounded just like him. And she remembered reading in the other letters about basketball and his sisters. It couldn't be. But it had to be. But it couldn't. But...

Pam frowned and focused on the head of brown hair that was visible over the top of her desk. Maybe she was just being stupid again. She shouldn't let herself get her hopes up.

On Wednesday morning, Pam came in to find another letter on her desk. This situation was getting weirder and weirder. It was now the third day in a row that she’d found a dream girl letter. Someone in the office had to be delivering them. And the only explanation that made sense to her was that it was Jim.

She stuffed the letter in her desk as Michael walked in the door, his arms full of the paperwork he’d insisted on taking home with him. Naturally, her first job of the day would be re-organizing it all so that he could take it home again tonight. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered.

It was close to ten before she even got a chance to read the letter.

Dear Dream Girl,

I’m turning 25 this year. That’s a quarter of a century, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. I have a crappy job in a lame and boring office selling insurance policies that are basically worthless to the person buying them. I moved back home to live with my parents after Chelsea kicked me out last month. My dating life is basically shot to hell, because really who would want to go out with such a loser? So in essence, my entire existence is pointless.

Okay, I know this is supposed to be about you, not me, so I’ll try to change the subject. As you can tell, you are not Chelsea, the girl I’ve been thinking you were for the past couple of years. In fact, I hope you’re nothing like her.

I’d elaborate, but one of my mom’s rules about these letters is that they have to be clean enough to read to our kids someday, and that definitely would not be the case if I kept talking about a certain person.

But, honestly—“my dreams are too big for you”? What kind of a line is that?

Okay. Moving on now. I promise.

Let’s talk about you. Do you have brothers and sisters? I have two sisters. Tiffany’s 29 and she lives in Boston with her husband, Adam. They just got married last summer. We don’t see them very often, but my Mom’s always calling her just to check in. Larissa’s 20 and going to Penn State. She lives in State College, but she’s home all the time on weekends and stuff, which is great for me because it keeps my parents preoccupied with her.

Living at home is basically the worst possible thing you could be doing at 25, so I really hope your life isn’t sucking as bad as mine is right now.

Dreaming I’ll find you soon,

The Man of Your Dreams

She set the letter down as soon as she finished reading, and looked up at the back of Jim’s neck. He wasn’t serious, was he? Did he honestly think she wasn’t going to figure it out? An older sister named Tiffany and a little sister named Larissa?

She knew Jim had two sisters. And she knew the older one was married. He had to know it wouldn’t be too hard for her to put the pieces together. But…he had seemed so oblivious the first time she had asked him about it. Maybe it was time to ask again.

Whether or not Jim wanted to acknowledge it, something was going on here, and she needed to know what it was.

The rest of the morning passed in a slow haze of watching him, watching Karen, pretending to work, then watching him again. She’d known since Monday that something was going on with Jim and Karen, but now it occurred to her that she hadn’t once seen them joking around in the break room or next to the copy machine. In fact, she hadn’t seen them speak to each other at all.

And then there was the way he’d smiled at her when she left yesterday…

It wouldn’t have seemed out of place a year ago, but now, when it was rare for him to volunteer any signs that would indicate that they were friends, that smile had been so unexpected, she had spent the whole elevator ride reminding herself that he had a girlfriend. Besides, even if he hadn’t had one, the point was, he had still rejected her. He just wasn’t interested in her. He’d made that clear.

Around twelve-thirty, she saw Jim get up for lunch. Pam tried not to be too conspicuous about following him into the kitchen, but she had to talk to him. She waited for him to come out of the restroom, rummaging through the fridge to keep herself occupied.

When he came out, though, he was deep in conversation with Toby and barely acknowledged her when she tried to join in, even after Toby smiled at her and asked her how her day was going. He was like that all through lunch. Later that afternoon, when she finally got up the nerve to go ask him if he had a minute, he wouldn’t even look her in the eye. Instead, he brushed her off, asking if she could wait until he wasn’t so busy.

-----

By Thursday afternoon, Pam was thoroughly stumped. She knew Jim, and she knew he was pretty much incapable of keeping a secret from her for this long. At least, he’d never been able to before. In fact, that was how she’d first started helping him with his pranks. He hadn’t been able to resist telling her all his plans.

That was why she was so confused about these dream girl letters. She knew it had to be him, but she had no idea why he was doing it, or what they really meant. He had left a few minutes ago on a sales call, and she had just decided she would confront him about the letters as soon as he got back, when the phone rang.

“Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam.”

“Hey, Pam, it’s Jim.”

“Oh--hey.”

“Hey, um, I have a meeting scheduled with a client this afternoon…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Yeah, well, the thing is, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to make it back into the office. Could you let Michael know I’ll be gone for the rest of the day?”

What? she thought. What were the chances? “Oh--uh, sure. Yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay, great.”

“Hey, Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, I kind of need to talk to you about something.”

“Oh. Well, can it wait?”

Not really. But don’t worry, it won’t take long. I just need to know if you’re still in love with me. “Well…”

“Sorry, it’s just—I’m supposed to be in there already.”

“Oh, uh, I guess so—I mean, yeah, it can wait.”

“Great. Talk to you later, Beesly.”

Beesly? “Um, okay--bye, Jim!”

The rest of the day passed slowly. Pam was too distracted by her thoughts to pay much attention to the rest of the office. Around four o’clock, she gave up on work entirely and pulled out all of the dream girl letters she still had in her purse. She reread them again, even more certain that they were Jim’s handiwork, but still unsure what they were supposed to mean. Did he want her to ask him about them again? Was he mocking her? No, he wasn’t that cruel.

She felt so confused. She pulled out her pen to begin writing a letter of her own, when she noticed a fax coming in with her name on it.

She shook her head in disbelief as she saw what was on the page. When it finished transmitting she reached over and grabbed the sheet before anyone else could see it.

Dear Dream Girl,

Tomorrow I’ll be 29 years old. I’m writing this now because I know tomorrow’s going to be crazy. Michael, my boss, has this big thing planned at work. Some insane party with a jungle theme. Believe me, you do not want to know. And then later I’m going out to dinner with my roommate and a bunch of our friends. So that should be fun.

I don’t really have much to say. Not a lot has changed for me since I wrote last year.

Um… I haven’t managed to get Dwight fired yet, but I have pulled a few really good prank on him. Including ones that led him to erase all of the files on his computer, jump around like a chicken in the parking lot of our office building, and confess the fact that he is secretly in love with Lois Lane in front of about fifty of our biggest customers. So, all in all, I think I’ve done pretty well for myself this year.

Work’s ridiculous, but I don’t really mind it. I mean, there are worse jobs out there. At least here I have people to laugh at, you know? And someone to laugh with. I like that.

Well, it really is late, so I’d better finish this up.

I love you, dream girl. I might not ever be able to tell you that, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

Love,

Your best friend

She sat at her desk, stunned. It had to be him—there was no question. She reread the letter once more, and was surprised to feel the beginnings of tears in her eyes. He loved her. Or he had. Did he still? But he had a girlfriend. What was he doing? This was all too overwhelming.

She forced herself to calm down. All she had to do was make it through the next hour and then she could call him and demand some answers. He couldn’t possibly think that she still didn’t know the letters were from him. Not after that.

On the drive home, she scrolled through her contacts until she found his number. She still had it programmed, even though it had been a long time since she’d considered calling it. Even now, it felt a little weird to actually press the call button. But she had to know what was going on.

“Hello. You have reached the voice mailbox of…” As the voicemail message continued, Pam considered her options. She could leave a message now and try again later, or she could just call back in a little bit. There was also the option of driving over to his apartment right now and banging on the door until he couldn’t ignore her. With a sigh, she waited for the beep. As much as she wanted to know what was going on, she knew she’d never be able to go through with the last option.

“Hey, Jim. It’s Pam. Call me when you get this, okay? I really need to talk to you. Um, okay. Well, I guess I’ll just talk to you later then. Yeah. Um, bye.”

By ten-thirty that night, he still hadn’t called her, and although she had tried calling him again several times, he hadn’t once picked up. She wondered if he was specifically avoiding her calls and what that might mean.

Well, she thought, whatever was going on she’d see him at work tomorrow, and then he’d have to explain everything.

-----

She got to work early to plan her attack. She could tell Jim that she had to discuss a specific assignment with him privately. If he tried to brush her off again, she could always threaten to go to Michael for advice. Yeah. That would work.

Pam sat at her desk, mentally ticking off each person who opened the door. Soon, only Jim and Kevin were missing. The door opened and Kevin walked in slowly. This was it, she thought. The next person to open that door would be Jim.

Her nerves were starting to get the better of her, but she knew she couldn’t back down now. She needed to know what was going on with the letters.

Finally at nine-thirty, she lost her patience.

“Michael, have you talked to Jim today?”

“You mean my main man, Jimmy-boy? Yeah, he called me on my cell this morning. Said he’ll be out sick all day.”

“Sick? On a Friday?”

“Well, Pam, I can’t expect you to understand this, but Jim’s job can be very stressful sometimes. He’s probably just feeling overworked.”

“Did he say that?”

“Well, not in those words, but Jim and I are buddies, you know? He doesn’t have to tell me everything. We just have this…connection. When you’re so close there are some things that you just know.”

Pam sighed. If Jim had played the friendship card with Michael, there was nothing she could do.

“Okay. Well, if he calls you again, can you ask him to call me?”

“Sure, sure, Pam. And hey, do you think you can call Jan and ask her about—”

“Why don’t you just call her yourself?” she interrupted. Pam didn’t to sound so testy, but she was so preoccupied with these Dream Girl letters. The last thing she wanted to deal with was Michael’s dysfunctional relationship with Jan.

“Because, I…” Michael sighed. “Never mind, Pam. I’ll just call her myself.”

Great, she thought, retreating to her desk. Jim’s not here, and Michael’s in a mood. What a fabulous day this is going to be.

By lunchtime her day hadn’t improved. Her only consolation was that Karen looked fairly miserable too. Pam felt guilty, but she couldn’t help hoping that Karen was upset because Jim and Karen had finally broken up. That would also explain why Karen had spent a good forty-five minutes in the annex earlier, talking to Toby. But since Kelly had been on her break for most of that time, she couldn’t be sure what they’d talked about.

At four o’clock, she just couldn’t take it anymore. She’d gotten there early that morning, and the office had been quiet all day. Michael was already done with everything he needed to do before the weekend, so really there was no reason to stay.

Quietly, she gathered up her things and turned off her computer, wondering how long it would take before Dwight noticed she was leaving. If Jim really was sick, then he would surely be at home. She couldn’t take more of the suspense. If she left now, she could be at his apartment in fifteen minutes, and then she’d finally know what was going on.

She was in luck. Dwight got up to go to the bathroom only a few minutes later, and when he did, Pam quickly grabbed her coat, said goodbye to Michael and slipped out the door before he could tell her not to leave.

She hurried through the lobby, but slowed as she neared her car. Tucked under one of her windshield wipers was a piece of paper folded in half. She opened her door and set her things on the passenger seat before carefully pulling out the note.

Dear Dream Girl,

It’s not my birthday, but I can’t wait that long to tell you how I feel. I love you, dream girl. I know it might not have seemed like it lately, but I do. Honestly, I’m not sure I could stop loving you no matter how long I tried. And believe me, I’ve tried. Sorry. That’s not really what I wanted to talk about.

All I really wanted to say was, I still love you, Pam, and I’m so sorry about how everything has turned out. I hope you’ll give me a chance to make it up to you.

There’s a lot more we need to talk about, but first I’d like to “come over there and kiss you senseless.” Isn’t that what you said you wanted?

If you’re at all interested in taking me up on this offer, please proceed to your apartment where further instructions await you.

With all my love,

Jim

Pam sank into her driver’s seat and scanned the letter one more time, just to make sure it was real. Halfway home, she realized that the line he’d quoted was from one of the letters she’d written to him a while back and then thrown away.

But—he’d been reading her letters? How did he know about them? How had he found them?

She started to shake a little bit when she realized just how much he might already know.

It would be fine, right? He loved her; that was the important part.

She pulled onto her street, still a little shaky, but doing her best to calm down. If only she could keep her thoughts from racing.

He loves me. I can’t believe he loves me. I can’t believe this is really happening. I can’t believe it’s not too late.

Slowly, Pam climbed the stairs to her apartment. One arm was full of her work things: her purse, her coat, and the handful of dream girl letters she'd gotten this week. She wasn't sure what to expect at this point; it still seemed so surreal. She was pretty sure Jim wasn't here-yet. At least, his car hadn't been in her parking lot. And yes, she'd looked.

On the drive home, she had figured she might as well prepare herself just a little bit-just in case. But he hadn't been waiting for her down in the parking lot, and unless he'd walked from several blocks away, chances were good that he wasn't going to be waiting on her doorstep either. Maybe that was a good thing, though. She felt like she needed a little time to adjust to all of this. On the one hand, Jim loved her, and he'd told her so-again. But had he only said that because he'd read her letters?

And more importantly, how had he gotten a hold of her letters in the first place? Not for the first time she wished she'd had the guts to just talk to Jim instead of writing him those stupid love letters and then throwing them away. This situation was so bizarre. Things like this weren't supposed to happen to a grown woman. Maybe in junior high when you had a crush on the star soccer player that sat behind you in English, but not when you were close to thirty and the guy you had a crush on was actually the guy you were in love with, and, instead of sitting behind you in school, he sat at a desk, at work, where you were both supposed to be doing your jobs and not falling in love with each other.

And especially not when that guy might still have a girlfriend. Pam quickly dismissed that thought. It was true she didn't know the details of their break-up, but she was practically positive that Jim and Karen were no longer together. There was just no way that he would tell her all those things when he was still with Karen, right?

It occurred to her then that the last time he'd confessed his feelings she, herself, hadn't exactly been single. But there was a big difference between telling an engaged girl that you loved her and telling a single girl that you loved her while you were still dating someone else. Wasn't there?

Pam's thoughts trailed off as she looked up and noticed the folded piece of paper taped on her door. She quickly pulled it down and let herself into her apartment. The note was handwritten and it gave her a little thrill to see her name scrawled across the piece of paper in Jim's big block letters. So this was what he'd meant by "further instructions."

Hey Pam,

I feel like I should tell you a few things before this goes any further. First, though, I'd just like to ask that you hear me out, and not try to call me or come find me before you give me a chance to explain myself.

So, here's the thing: I didn't steal your letters. Well, I guess, technically, I stole two of them, but that was only because I had no other way of getting them and I really didn't want them to go to waste.

But I have read your letters-all of them, in fact. Before you freak out, though, just listen to me. It's okay. I know we still have a lot to talk about, but I just want you to know that I read them all and I still decided to tell you that I love you. And I do love you, Pam. I do. I'm still in love with you-always have been, in fact. So don't even try to doubt it, because it's so...impossible. I just can't help it.

With love,

Jim

P.S. I have a lot more to say to you, but first I think I need to do some laundry and as luck would have it, I am completely out of fabric softener. Meet me in the appropriate aisle. I promise it'll be worth it.

Pam finished reading the letter and then carried it with her into her room. Her eyes had teared up a little bit as she had read it, and she tried to wipe them carefully, so as not to smudge the little bit of makeup she'd put on for work. She set the letter on her desk and sat down on the bed. At this point she didn't know what to do. She really wanted to go talk to Jim, but she wasn't sure she'd be able to face him without having a complete meltdown. It was just so much to take in.

Only half an hour ago, she'd been planning to confront Jim about the dream girl letters she'd been getting and force him to explain his bizarre behavior this last week. And now, she had so many questions that she wanted to have answered, but she just wasn't sure she'd be able to ask them without turning into a wreck. And she didn't want Jim to see her that way. Not now, when he'd just admitted that he was still in love with her.

Then there were her own letters to think about. She had no idea how he had found them unless he'd been taking them right out of her garbage can, but he had said that he hadn't been stealing them. She couldn't even remember what she'd written in some of them, but she knew for a fact that the words "Pam Halpert" had been recorded in bright blue ink. She groaned a little bit, wondering what he'd thought of that particular letter.

With a sigh, she sank backwards onto her bed. She could feel the beginnings of a headache, and she hoped shutting her eyes for a minute would be enough to stave it off. But even though part of her wanted to just stay there long enough to process everything that had just happened, there was another, more insistent, part that had her practically bouncing out of her skin in anticipation.

Now was not the time to lie on her bed. Jim was waiting for her! Jim! Her Jim! They still had a lot to talk about, but he was there in the grocery store, waiting to kiss her! She just didn't want to wait any longer than they already had.

Pulling herself up off the bed, she quickly changed out of her work clothes and into some jeans and her favorite sweater. It was only 4:50 by the time she made it back out to her car, and she was glad she'd left the office early.

As soon as she'd read Jim's postscript, Pam had known exactly where to find him. She'd even conjured up a mental image of him standing all alone in the store where they'd gone shopping for Kevin's presents on Michael's birthday. She wasn't sure why he'd asked to meet there, of all places, but as long as they'd be able to go someplace quieter to talk, she didn't have a problem with it.

-----

As she parked in front of the grocery store, she had to take a few deep breaths before she felt steady enough to walk in. She headed toward the aisle on the end that was marked "Laundry/Cleaning Supplies."

He wasn't there.

She checked the nearest aisles nervously. She knew this was the same store. Tensing a little, she tried not to overreact as she made her way along the back of the store, looking down each aisle as she passed it. Where was he?

"Pam Beesly to the customer service counter, please. Pam Beesly to the customer service counter."

The teenage voice over the loudspeaker sounded bored. Pam shook her head and smiled. Of course Jim would do something like that. He had never been one to just let things happen; there always had to be some big production. As she approached the counter, she smiled again, thinking of all the trouble he must have gone through to make his plan work. First with the Dream Girl letters and now getting the store employees in on it. He really was adorably over the top sometimes.

She frowned slightly when she reached the counter and there was still no sign of Jim.

"Can I help you?" the girl behind the counter asked, still in that same bored tone.

"I'm Pam Beesly. I was paged?"

"Oh." The girl paused for a minute and looked at Pam more closely. "Seriously? You're Pam?"

"Um...yeah."

"Huh. Well then, I guess this is for you."

With one final look of disbelief, the girl handed her a folded piece of paper and went back to the magazine she'd been reading.

When she unfolded the paper, Pam found yet another letter.

Dear Pam,

I'm glad to see you figured out the clue! Sorry if you were hoping to find me in person, instead of me in a letter. But I still have a lot to explain, and writing it down is the only way I can make sure that I get it all to come out right.

So as I was saying, I just can't help loving you. You're the girl for me. The only girl. Oh, and Karen and I broke up last weekend. Wow. Okay, that is not how I meant to say that. What I meant to say was that Karen and I have been drifting apart for a while now. I wanted to try to fix it with her, because honestly, I did like her, but then I found out how you felt. I mean, Karen's great, but no matter how much I may have wanted to at one point, I could never feel as strongly about her as I did about you.

Pam, I had no idea that you loved me. I didn't even know you liked me. I mean, I know I wasn't really paying much attention, so it was probably harder for me to tell, but I just...

The words trailed off and Pam noticed a few words that had been crossed out. Then:

I'm sorry I didn't act like your friend, but I think you can probably understand how hard that would've been for me. I loved you, Pam. I really, really loved you. And I didn't want to get hurt anymore. Actually, it turns out that it hurt a lot more to not be your friend than it did to be friends with you while you were engaged, but I guess I just didn't want to have to keep trying to get over you. I thought that if I could just move on with Karen, I'd be able to keep from falling for you again. I just didn't realize that I'd never really fallen out of love with you at all.

Hoping you'll forgive me,

Jim

P.S. Speaking of forgiveness, do you think Michael and Dwight ever really forgave each other after their big brawl? I mean, what do you think would happen if we ever got them back in that dojo? Maybe we should ask the instructor about a group rate for lessons. I'm sure Corporate would approve it as a team-building activity, don't you think? Anyway, would you mind stopping by the dojo to ask? Thanks! I'll make it up to you soon.

When she finished reading, she looked up to see the girl at the service counter openly staring at her. With a faint blush of embarrassment, Pam turned to walk back out to her car.

"Hey!" the girl called out.

Pam turned to face her once more. "Yeah?"

"Your boyfriend's really cute. How'd you get him to go out with you?"

"Oh, we're not...uh... Actually, I don't really think that's any of your business." Pam made a defiant face at the clerk. Who did she think she was, anyway?

"Well, do you know if he has a younger brother?"

"Um...no, he doesn't."

"Oh. Too bad," she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

My boyfriend? Pam wondered if Jim had actually called himself that, or if the girl had just assumed they were together. Either way, as she climbed back into her car to drive to the dojo, she knew she could definitely get used to hearing people refer to Jim as her boyfriend. Especially now that she knew for sure that he had broken up with Karen. She felt herself sit up a little straighter as she started the car.

-----

She walked into the dojo in the middle of a class, but before she even had a chance to look around for Jim, the instructor stopped what he was saying and ran over toward her.

"Pam Beesly?" he asked. She nodded, and he handed Pam a plain white envelope. "This is for you. Oh, and Jim said you would like to schedule a lesson for your children?"

"He said what?"

"Um...I'm sorry. He said you wanted to schedule a lesson for a birthday party. We do children's parties. I just thought he meant..." the instructor trailed off, looking a little confused.

"Oh, no. Sorry. Um...I think that's supposed to be for my boss, actually." Pam smiled sheepishly.

"Wait-your boss? Have you been here before? You look familiar to me. Are you a friend of Dwight's?"

"Uh...no. Anyway, I'd better go," she said quickly. "Thanks for giving me this."

"No problem, Pam. You can call later about the party, okay?"

"Okay!" she said.

She hoped he wouldn't hear the relief in her voice as she hurried out the door. Pam shook her head as she pictured Jim describing her to the instructor, probably telling him that she would want to discuss party arrangements right away. Such a dork, she thought. For a quick second it occurred to her that maybe Jim had actually made it sound like the two of them really had children and were planning the party for one of them. That was stupid, though. Jim wouldn't have actually said that, right?

Pam slid back into the driver's seat, glad that her car was still warm. She glanced around the quiet street and noticed for the first time that the sky was filled with the last brilliant hues of a late-winter sunset.

As beautiful as the evening was though, Pam had more pressing matters on her mind. She quickly unfolded Jim's letter and switched on the overhead light so she could read.

Hello again, Pam!

Are you having fun with this yet? I thought it might be a good idea to send you to a few of the places where I fell in love with you. Just to remind you of the fun times we used to have before this all got so screwed up. Anyway, I just realized that I got totally off-topic in my last letter. I meant to tell you how this all began.

I don't know when you started writing me letters, but my part started when I came into the office one day and found a note from a woman named Marsha. She said that she worked as a cleaning lady in our office and that she had come across something that she wanted to show me. I was intrigued, so I agreed to meet her for coffee.

We met up, and she told me that she had found some letters that you had written to me, but that you didn't know that she'd found them, and she wasn't sure if she should give them to me or not. Maybe I should have just refused, or tried to talk to you about them. I guess that would have been the nicer thing to do, but the thing is we weren't really talking much at the time, and I just... I missed you. And then this woman came along and offered me a chance to find out what you'd been thinking lately, and... I'm really sorry that I went behind your back about this stuff, but I honestly didn't know what I was getting into. I had no idea that you had been so open in those letters.

Anyway, I thought Marsha was a little crazy at first, but I realize now that she was probably just trying to protect you in case I turned out to be a jerk or something. Which is probably why she made me agree to a trade. She said that she would give me one of your letters if I'd give her a letter from me to you. That's when I remembered the dream girl letters my mom made me start writing as a kid.

At first I had no idea that she was delivering my dream girl letters to you. But by the time I found out, I didn't really mind. You are my dream girl, Pam. In fact, you're even better than any of my dreams.

With love,

Jim

P.S. As second in command at Dunder-Mifflin, Scranton, I have just been informed that our office is in danger of being infiltrated by one, Agent Michael Scarn. I need you to meet me on the roof so we can discuss the security measures in place there. I suspect an aerial attack.

Pam rolled her eyes and smiled to herself as she started her car and began to drive back to the office. She was glad she'd thought to bring her coat with her. She had always liked hanging out on the roof with Jim, but it would be cold at this time of night.

As she drove, she thought about what she'd just read. It was such a strange story that she couldn't help but think it was true. After all, why would Jim have made up something like that? He wouldn't have. But now that she knew how he'd been getting her letters, she wondered how Marsha had found them. And even more than that, she wondered what had possessed Marsha to offer the letters to Jim.

When she reached the Dunder-Mifflin building, Pam was glad to see that the main doors were still unlocked. She took the elevator up to their suite and let herself in with her key. It was strange to be there after everyone was gone. Ever since Jim had left for Stamford, Pam had been careful about not being the last person to leave the office. She had tried her best to avoid having to see it the way it had been the last time she’d been there when it was dark--the night that Jim had told her he loved her. The night he’d kissed her.

Now, for the first time in months, she could face it with a smile. It was so unreal to her that she and Jim had almost found their way back to each other after so long. She’d spent so many hours trying to make herself forget what had happened that night, trying to talk herself out of loving him. But this night was different; the pretenses were over and Pam felt like she was finally back where she belonged.

Carefully, she climbed the ladder up to the roof. She was a little disappointed, but not really surprised to find herself alone. She’d hoped Jim might actually be here. It would have been a good place to just sit and talk about everything, but instead, there was probably just another letter. Still, it was kind of nice to have some time to just think about what was going on, before having to face Jim in person.

She sighed lightly, and made her way toward the lawn chairs, the moonlight reflecting eerily across the metal handles. There were several times over the last year or so that she’d considered taking the chairs off the roof, but something in her wouldn’t let her do it. Now she was glad they were still here. It was like part of her, and part of Jim had stayed up on the roof with each other, just waiting for everything else to come together.

She reached down to grab the piece of paper that was tucked under one of the chairs, along with the flashlight that Jim had thoughtfully left for her. Then she sat down to read.

My Pam,

You have no idea how amazing it is to be able to write that. I mean, I guess I really shouldn’t write it until I know for sure that you will be mine, but if you’re reading this, then you must have followed the plan up till now, so hopefully, it’s not too much of an assumption to make.

Anyway, I’d better get back to my story. I started getting your letters. Marsha would leave them for me on my desk at work, and I’d leave another dream girl letter in exchange. But then there were a few days when I didn’t get any letters, and I wondered what was going on. I still don’t know what happened to Marsha, but a week ago I got a package from her with the rest of your letters in it.

Pam, I don’t even know what to say about those letters. I was so shocked. I mean, I really didn’t know that you had any feelings for me at all. I thought I’d probably just spend the rest of my life trying to make myself forget about you. Trying to move on however I could, but then… You amaze me. Do you know that? I really don’t know how to express what I felt when I found out that you loved me and that you had loved me for so long.

Unfortunately, at the time, I still had a girlfriend and as luck would have it, Karen came over right as I finished reading your letters. I managed to hide the letters, but Karen found Marsha’s note explaining the whole situation.

I don’t know… At the time it was really hard to try to explain what had been going on without sounding like a total jerk, but now that I think about it, maybe it was better that Karen found the note. I guess she deserved to know the truth about everything, but I’m not sure I would have told her all that if she hadn’t found out part of it by accident.

Anyway, the point is, we broke up, and she told me later that she’d be leaving in a week. Today was her last day, actually. I don’t know if she told anyone. I feel kind of bad for just breaking it off with her when I know she really wanted it to work, but once I knew I could choose between the two of you, it was completely over. I’d always pick you, Pam.

XOXOXXXXO

Your Jim

P.S. I hope you’ve enjoyed your time on the roof, but it’s time to move on. Besides, I happen to know that Agent Michael Scarn is an excellent ice skater. I think if we’re going to stop him from taking over the office, we’ll have to be expert skaters ourselves. Now if only there was some place we could practice. Oh, wait, I think I might know just the place. See you there!

Shaking her head, Pam stood and headed for the ladder that would take her back down to the office. She was starting to get a little frustrated by these letters. She loved reading them, of course, but she would much rather just see Jim in person. While she wanted to know the rest of the story, she had calmed down a lot since that afternoon, and was now anxious to talk to him--to make sure this was all real. Still, if this was the way he wanted to do this, and as long as she did get to see him eventually, she wasn’t about to complain.

Pam paused near the top of the ladder, pulling her coat around her a little tighter. She’d forgotten how nice the view was from up here. Maybe next week she and Jim could come back up together. At least it would be a good way to avoid Dwight on their lunch break. And, it was pretty secluded. Perfect for midday make out sessions. Blushing in the dark, Pam quickly quelled that thought. There’d be plenty of time for making out later. For now, she figured she’d better just proceed according to Jim’s plan.

-----

When she pulled up outside the ice skating rink, Pam noticed that it was surprisingly busy for a Friday night. She entered the lobby and found a junior league hockey game in progress. The concession stand was busy, the front desk and bleachers crowded, and for a minute she just stood there confused about what to do next. She wasn’t sure who to ask about a letter. Had Jim hidden it somewhere? she wondered. She wished he hadn’t been so cryptic.

Just then, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Excuse me--do you have your ticket ma’am?” The teenage boy addressing her couldn’t have been more than sixteen, but he was nearly a foot taller than Pam, and she couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated.

“Oh—uh, no,” Pam stammered. “I’m not actually going to the game; I just needed to stop by here for a minute—to get something.”

“I’m sorry, but tonight’s the regional championships. You can’t come in here without a ticket.” He smiled at her gently, but then nodded toward the door.

“Look, I know there’s a game going on and I’m not trying to sneak in or anything, I just need to find something that a friend left here. Is there manager or someone that I could talk to?”

“Hold on a minute. I’ll get him. Just stay right here, okay?”

Pam nodded and in a few minutes the boy was back.

“Oh good, you’re still here,” the kid said.

Pam nodded again, raising her eyebrows.

“Is your name Pam?”

“Um…yes.”

“I thought so. In that case, come with me.” He opened the gate and gestured ahead.

Pam followed him around the ice rink, and then through a set of doors that led to a large storage area.

“Here she is, Dad.”

“Thanks!” The voice came from behind a Zamboni machine that took up half the room. It was soon followed by a middle-aged man wearing a faded leather jacket, work gloves and a disarming grin. Pam couldn’t help but smile back at him. He reminded her a little bit of her own father.

“So, you’re Pam?”

“Yep,” she said, smiling self-consciously.

“Well, then—I guess I have something for you.” With that, the man climbed up onto the Zamboni and grabbed something off the seat. When he got back down, he smiled at Pam once more. “That’s a pretty special boy you’ve got yourself, Pam. He seems like he’d do anything for you.” He winked at her and held out a letter.

“Yeah,” she smiled again. It was so strange to think of Jim this way. As hers. She felt her stomach twist up at the thought. “Thanks!” she called out, heading back toward the entrance.

“No problem! You two have a nice night, okay?”

“Oh, we will!” That is if I ever catch up to him, Pam thought.

Back in her car, she unfolded the letter and read it in the light of the parking lot’s floodlights.

Dear Beautiful,

Stay with me, Pam. I’m almost done. Just keep reading a little bit longer.

After I broke up with Karen, I still had to decide what to do about your letters. I knew I had to talk to you, but I couldn’t really figure out how to do it with Karen still around. And besides that I didn’t want to scare you off or… I just didn’t

want to mess this up. I mean, I’ve been waiting for this—for you—for so long now that I wanted it to be perfect. In the end, I decided to just keep sending you dream girl letters for a few days.

Oh, and Marsha mentioned in her note that she’d been getting your letters out of the garbage can, so after she left, I started checking your garbage and I found a couple more letters that way. I guess that part was a little creepy of me, but trust me, it was for a good cause!

So that’s how it all happened. And I think I should just tell you, everything you said in those letters is exactly what I want, too. I mean it Pam, everything. I don’t want you to worry about anything you said. Even the possibility of maybe someday thinking about getting married. I’m completely willing to have this go as fast or as slow as you want it to, but I have no problem admitting that I’ve thought about it, too. Anyway, we don’t have to get into all that quite yet. For now, just know that I love you.

Yours always,

Jim

P.S. Do you remember our first date? No, not the one on the roof, although I liked that one too. The one before that, though. During your first week? Well, I remember. And if you don’t maybe I can refresh your memory. See you at Cugino’s.

-----

As she walked into the restaurant, she felt overwhelmed by memories. It wasn’t as though she’d never been back since that lunch with Jim, but ever since then, Cugino’s had always reminded her of him. That day had been perfect. She and Jim had spent the entire time laughing about everything from the old Dunder-Mifflin logo, to Dwight’s then-current obsession with anime, and the “motivational” posters Michael had tried to put up in the break room. She had never known someone who could make her laugh like that from the very first day they met.

At the time, she had felt a twinge of guilt whenever she saw him looking at her. She was engaged, but she hadn’t known if he knew that, and even though she had felt like she ought to remind him, she just hadn’t been able to. Now, years later, she realized that the real reason she’d been unable to mention Roy was because she’d wanted Jim, too. She shook her head in wonder, realizing that on that first “date” she never could have imagined a night like this one.

“Can I help you, Miss?” the waiter asked, interrupting Pam’s thoughts.

“Hi,” she said, smiling politely. “My name’s Pam Beesly. Would you happen to have something for me?”

By this time, she was used to the drill. Pam figured she might as well get this over with as fast as possible, so she could get on to the next clue. It had been almost two hours since she’d left her apartment, and she was starting to get a little tired of the chase.

“Beesly?” The waiter paused for a second, scanning the paper in front of him. “Oh, yes, Beesly. Come with me please,” he said, giving her a friendly smile before turning to lead her to a table in the back of the restaurant. “Here you are. Just have a seat; it should only be a minute.”

“Oh, um…okay,” she said, feeling confused. “Thank you.”

Pam sat with her hands folded on her lap. She was a little put-off by the waiter’s behavior. But she figured Jim had probably told the waiter to give her a table so she would have somewhere warm to read. She felt a little uncomfortable, though. While Cugino’s wasn’t exactly a fancy restaurant, she couldn’t help feeling a bit out of place in her faded, old pair of jeans.

She also noticed that she was surrounded by couples. Young, old, they sat around her, submersing her in a sea of romance. She knew it wouldn’t be long before she’d be doing the exact same thing with Jim, but for now, it just made her feel like the odd one out.

Her thoughts drifted back to Jim’s letters. She couldn’t wait to see him. She just wanted him to know that she loved him, too. That she—

All of a sudden she started as she felt someone place their hands on her shoulders from behind.

“Sh…” the someone whispered, reassuringly. Pam froze for a minute. Her first thought was that she must be dreaming. Then she turned her head slightly and gasped when she realized that it really was Jim standing behind her.

“Pam,” Jim whispered in her ear. He moved her hair aside to gently kiss the back of her neck.

She closed her eyes for just a second, memorizing the sensation of his warm breath against her skin. She couldn’t remember exactly when or how she’d written it, but she knew that she’d mentioned doing this exact same thing to him in one of her letters.

She had dreamt of something like this for so long that now it almost felt like just another dream. But at the same time the differences between dream and reality were just too undeniable. Like the slight hint of stubble that brushed along the back of her neck and the way his hair felt so soft when she reached behind her to run her fingers in it. So instead of trying to deny it, Pam just kept thinking over and over this is real, real, real…

She wanted to say something. She wanted to tell him how it felt to be living this moment. Actually, what she really wanted was to tell him that she loved him. But in the middle of Cugino’s, on a Friday night, with Jim here in person, everything that she’d already confessed in her letters sounded like too much. She knew he had confessed a lot too, but writing “I love you” in a letter was one thing and saying it out loud was something else entirely. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to say it just yet. But she still wanted to say something.

“Jim,” she murmured.

Her voice seemed to pull them both out of their trance and he straightened up from his position behind her chair and then slowly moved around the table to sit opposite her.

He was looking at her, expecting her to continue, but all she could do was stare at him. There he was, finally. The man of her dreams. No more letters. No more pretending. No more misunderstandings or misinterpretations. He was here. And he was hers. Without a word, she came over to the other end of the table and leaned down to kiss him back.

Never mind that they were probably being stared at by half the restaurant. She’d waited so long, that now when she had the chance, she needed to prove to herself that this was really going to happen.

After a moment he pulled back slightly and she opened her eyes.

“Hi,” he said quietly, his face still so close to hers.

“Hey,” she murmured back.

Jim couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Pam was kissing him. Pam was kissing him. Pam was kissing him.

Up until tonight a scene like this had only ever played out for him within the haze of a dream. But nothing about this moment was hazy. In fact, everything was astonishingly clear. He could feel, with perfect clarity, the pressure of her lips against his, and the soothing way she slid her fingers along the side of his neck as she slowly drew them up to his scalp, holding him gently, but firmly, in this position. The only thing he couldn’t be sure about was how long this had been going on.

Finally, reluctantly, he pulled back a bit. He gave her a look that he hoped would let her know that he’d only stopped kissing her because they were in a crowded restaurant, and that he fully intended to start kissing her again as soon as they were out of said restaurant, and that was when he realized that instead of just looking at her he should really say something. But what was there to say?

Just say something, you idiot; she’s standing right there!

But what? What do you say to your best friend who you’re in love with and who you know for sure loves you too when you haven’t talked to her—really talked to her, that is—in almost a year?

In the end he had to rely on something simple.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” she responded with a smile, before straightening up fully and moving back to her seat. He watched her settle into her chair, and wondered what to say that would keep her from closing up. He could see the wandering glances, the folded hands, and the small absent-minded smile that meant she was starting to feel nervous about her bold move. He desperately racked his brain for the right words, but somehow saying everything in letters had left him now at this critical moment with nothing to say.

“So…” Pam began.

“So.” There was a pause that lasted a little too long as they both tried to focus on anything but the person sitting across from them.

“This is weird, huh?” she said finally, with a sheepish look in her eyes.

“Well, it wasn’t until you mentioned it,” he said, still trying to keep her from noticing the awkwardness that threatened to stifle them.

“Oh, right…” He saw her cringe a little and he shook his head in frustration. He’d meant it as a joke, but, obviously, it really was awkward and now he feared he’d only made it worse.

This was ridiculous. Here he was with Pam, all the cards had already been laid on the table, and now he couldn’t even talk to her?

“So, have you had a nice evening so far?” he asked, trying to ease his way into this conversation.

“I have, in fact. I got to do a little touring in my own hometown.” Her eyes lit up and he could tell she really had enjoyed going back to all those places they’d enjoyed together.

“Really? Well then, I’m assuming you stopped by our world-renowned—”

“Jim,” she cut him off quietly.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking up at her.

“Are we gonna talk about all this?” The nervous look was back on her face, and he realized it was the second time in the last ten minutes that his fall-back strategy of trying to joke his way out of a tense moment had fallen short.

He took a deep breath and then let it out in a slow sigh. “Yeah. We can talk about it.”

“Okay, good.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah…soooo….”

And that was when their food arrived.

-----

“So how long have they been together?” Allie asked.

“Well, he said years, but that’s not what I would’ve guessed from the looks of things,” Megan replied.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“Do you think maybe we should do something? I mean he went to all this trouble. I just feel bad for him.”

“I don’t know. It’s probably better to let them figure out on their own.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“What are we whispering about?” Rachel asked, poking her head between the two other servers.

“That couple over there,” Megan answered.

“Which one?” Rachel asked.

“Table 12,” said Allie.

“Is that the guy that was hiding out in the kitchen for so long?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I thought he was friends with someone on the staff.”

“Nope. Just some random guy that wanted to surprise his date.”

“Huh,” Rachel said. Megan and Allie both turned to look at Rachel.

“Uh-oh. I’ve seen that face before,” Megan teased.

“Rachel, what are you planning?” Allie asked.

“Nothing! I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, I have to get back to work.”

Allie and Megan exchanged another look while Rachel walked back to the kitchen. Then they turned their attention back to Table 12. Hopefully whatever Rachel had up her sleeve would work, because at the moment the poor couple looked downright miserable.

-----

It had been sixteen minutes since either of them had said something. Pam knew because there was a clock on the wall that, from her vantage point, hung just to the left of Jim’s head. She had no idea why she’d clammed up, but now the silence had gone on too long to try to break it with a cough or something, so instead she just took another bite of her pasta.

Her gaze fell on the clock again. It had been almost seventeen minutes and this was so unlike them. Whether they were talking about Michael’s latest crush on one of the girls from the TV guide channel, or imitating Kevin as he tried to explain something complex to Angela, they had always had something to say. The only other times she could remember them being this quiet around each other were when they were fighting, and today they were definitely not fighting. Pretty much the opposite, in fact.

So why was it, she wondered, that now that they were finally together, and back to being friends again, she suddenly felt like everything she wanted to say would sound stupid, or inappropriate. This was supposed to be their big romantic night and here she was, choking down noodles and staring at the tablecloth.

She sighed inwardly and checked the clock again. Eighteen minutes. This was going to be a long night.

-----

“Excuse me, sir? There seems to be a problem with your order; can I speak to you privately for a moment?” Jim gave the waitress a confused look that only intensified when she widened her eyes silently urging him to agree to talk to her.

“Oh, uh, sure. Do you mind, Pam? I’ll be right back.” He hoped Pam couldn’t hear the tinge of relief in his voice at this interruption. At this point he would’ve welcomed anything that would break the nervous energy that seemed to have them both trapped in their chairs, unable to say a word.

He followed the waitress to the back of the restaurant.

As soon as they stepped through the doors to the kitchen she rounded toward him. “What is your problem, man? You’re tanking!”

“Huh?”

“Your date! You had it all set up and you know, we all thought it was super romantic and stuff, but now you’re just sitting there. Don’t you like this girl?”

“Of course I like her! I love her!” Jim replied defensively. “And besides, it really isn’t any of your business.” He crossed his arms over his chest. Who did this girl think she was, anyway?

“Well, excuse me for trying to help! I just thought you might want a minute to come back here and come up with something to say.”

Jim had to concede that the waitress had a point. When he didn’t respond she asked if she could help him with anything, maybe give him some conversation starters, or even a good pick-up line. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and then dismissed her with a quick, “No, thanks."

He already knew how to talk to Pam. He’d been doing it for years. And he’d already been talking to her for hours through his letters, but somehow writing out his feelings hadn’t been nearly as difficult as actually trying to tell them to her in person.

An idea occurred to him then that he almost dismissed as way too lame, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. Maybe this could work…

-----

Things didn’t get much better when Jim returned. He just sat down and began eating again, and she returned to her former position, counting squares on the tablecloth. She was still trying to think of something to say when she looked up again and noticed him writing something on a piece of paper he seemed to have conjured up out of nowhere. He had his hand over it so she couldn’t see what he’d written, but when she looked a little closer she could tell that the paper was some kind of promotional flyer for the restaurant.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just hold on.”

“Jim, what…?”

Without saying anything else, he slid the paper over to her side of the table and smiled.

She gave him another puzzled look and then picked up the paper.

Pam,

I thought it might be easier to do this on paper, and I think I was right. As sad as this sounds, I think we might need to ease ourselves back into the whole spoken conversation thing.

So here’s my proposition. Twenty questions. On paper. My turn first.

Did you have fun on the little treasure hunt thing today?

Love you,

Jim

She giggled a bit when she finished reading. This was probably the dumbest thing anyone had ever done on a first date, but even so, she couldn’t help but love it. Instead of asking him out loud she looked up and mimicked writing something while giving him a questioning look. Then she held her hand out.

It only took him a second to hand over his pen. She beamed back at him as their fingers brushed.

Jim,

Of course I had fun! But you wouldn’t believe some of the stuff I had to go through to find all your letters. That’s okay, though. I’d go through a lot more than that for you!

Okay, here’s my question. Did Marsha ever tell you how she found my letters?

Love you too!

Pam

A minute later, she had her reply.

Marsha never said exactly how she found them. Actually, I don’t know what happened to her. She just mysteriously left town and I haven’t been able to get a hold of her since.

Anyway, next question…

Are you really in love with my eyebrows?

Yours,

Jim

Pam handed the paper back to him a few seconds later.

My Jim,

When did I say I was in love with your eyebrows?

Your Pam

Jim quickly replied.

In your last letter, you said something about my eyebrows shooting up when I look at Dwight. I gotta know, Beesly. Eyebrows? Really? Because I had no idea you were that kind of girl, haha. Also, you didn’t answer the question. That means I get to go twice.

1. Are you as nervous about this as I am?
2. Do you think we should try to keep our relationship a secret at work?

-----

Jim couldn’t help but smile as he watched her read the latest note. He took another sip of water as she began writing, and congratulated himself on finally getting them talking. Well, it was almost like talking, anyway.

He knew it would get easier to actually talk once they both got used to the idea that this was really happening. But for now, he’d take whatever he could get. Pam handed him the sheet of paper and the pen, and he looked down at what she’d written.

Dear Cheater,

I can’t believe you’re making up your own rules for 20 questions! Anyway, here are my answers.

1. Yes. VERY nervous, in fact.
2. No. They’re going to find out anyway, and besides that, I really don’t want to end up as the next Dwight and Angela. Wait, you know about that, right? I think I mentioned it in one of my letters. Did you get that one? (Oh, and those don’t count as separate questions by the way.)
3. Yes. I do love your eyebrows. Dork.

With love,

Pam

He smiled again as he read her greeting. After he finished reading he wrote back.

Well then I suppose there might be 1 or 2 things about your face that I love too. Like your nose, and your cheeks and your smile…

Anyway, yes. I did know about Dwight and Angela from your letter, and it’s been nagging at me ever since I found out! I really want to do something to mess with them, but I’ve been a little busy trying to get this girl to fall in love with me…

Next question: When exactly did you call off the wedding?

Jim hesitated a little as he reread his question. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to get into all this right now, but he figured this might be the easiest way to get everything out in the open, so he handed the pen and paper back to her.

About a week after you left. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. Forgive me?

He looked across the table to see her watching him, an anxious look on her face. He smiled reassuringly and wrote his reply.

Definitely! So what should we do about Dwight and Angela?

Her answer didn’t take her long to write but he noticed that just as he had done a minute before, she also hesitated for a minute before handing it over.

Do we have to do anything? I mean, they seem really happy together. That first sentence wasn’t a question, by the way. It just looks like one. Here’s the real question: When did you start dating Karen?

With an internal sigh he wrote back.

A couple weeks before I moved back here. It was so stupid. I was just afraid to face you again after…everything. And honestly, I knew she was into me and that was kind of nice and I knew I’d be able to make Michael jealous of my new girlfriend, so… To be perfectly honest, I probably wanted to make you a little jealous too. I’m sorry about that. Do you forgive me?

He didn’t bother looking up until he could be sure that she’d read the whole thing. But when he dared to face her, she was still smiling.

Always. Okay, two questions this time:

1. What question are we on?
2. Do you think we should try talking instead of writing now?

Jim chuckled to himself as he composed his reply.

Answers:

1. No idea.
2. As much as I’m enjoying this, you’re probably right. We should at least try talking. Otherwise we have a long life ahead of us filled with pens and stationery. Good thing we work at a paper company.

Questions:

1. Do you have any idea how much I’m in love with you?
2. Will you be my girlfriend? Please say yes. (Out loud, if you can manage it.)

Pam looked up with a grin.

“Yes,” she said, happily.

“Good,” he grinned, “because my second choice was Phyllis, but you know she’s engaged so it might have been a little difficult to get her to change her mind.”

Pam giggled a little, and suddenly he knew for a fact that one of his new goals in life would be getting her to laugh like that as often as possible.

“I think they want us to leave.” Pam whispered, leaning across the table.

Jim was surprised to realize that Pam was right. In the time it had taken them to pass their notes back and forth, they had also somehow managed to make it all the way through dinner and dessert. He hadn’t noticed the check sitting on the table. He wondered how long it had been there.

-----

“So how long do you think we can keep this going?” Pam whispered loudly as Jim put his arm around her and led her out the door.

“Keep what going?” he whispered back.

“The not talking thing.”

“Aren’t we talking now?” he asked before opening her car door for her.

“This is whispering. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, right. I have no idea, then.”

“Because, you know,” Pam said with a sly smile, “I was thinking that there are probably a few other things that we could do tonight that wouldn’t involve much talking.” She knew she probably shouldn’t even be considering this, but she couldn’t help herself. And she’d had so much fun at dinner that she just didn’t want the night to end yet.

“Really?” he asked, his voice sounding a little strained. “You mean like charades?”

“Or chess,” she said, looking at him in a way that she hoped would convey what she was really trying to say.

“Or a movie?”

“Nah, I always talk through movies,” said Pam.

“And I’m a terrible chess player. But, you know, I mean—I guess, well, we could do something else.”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” she teased.

“Oh,” Jim said, making a face. He stepped back slightly. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s too soon, isn’t it?”

“I was kidding,” Pam said, reaching out for his hand. “I don’t think it’s too soon at all. In fact, I think we’ve already been waiting way too long.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Jim said.

He leaned down to kiss her again and she was pretty sure that she’d never been this giddy in her entire life. As his lips met hers she wondered what on earth had taken them so long.

Her hair was nearly in his mouth and itchy against his cheeks. Her skin was warm against his-almost too warm. He wanted to move his arm because he couldn't really feel it anymore, but at the same time he couldn't fathom doing anything that might disturb their position, because he was pretty sure that this was the most comfortable he'd ever felt in his life.

So instead he did his best to gently blow her hair off of his face and closed his eyes again to savor the sensation of lying next to her. Even in his wildest dreams, he hadn't realized that it would be like this. His breathing deepened again, and as he drifted back to sleep his last semi-conscious thought was that he should probably make sure pretty soon that Pam really did want to marry him someday, because he couldn't imagine spending another night alone after doing this.

-----

Soft. Warm. Surrounded. She felt like she was sinking in a lukewarm, cottony-plush ocean. The rising and falling of her chest mimicked the motion of the waves. Her eyes were still closed, but she wasn't dreaming anymore. Behind her closed eyelids she could tell that the sun was beginning to fill her bedroom. No, not her bedroom...Jim's bedroom...no, Jim's living room...Jim.

Her eyes flew open and focused on the strands of chest hair that were poking out of his thin T-shirt just centimeters away from her nose. For a second her whole body stiffened. Her first thought was that she shouldn't be here. How had she ended up like this, curled into his body on his couch? She instantly panicked; sure that whatever had happened would ruin their friendship, or their non-friendship or whatever it was they were doing at this point.

Then, just as quickly, she remembered. With a silent sigh of relief, she relaxed into him again. A slow smile spread across her face as the details of the night came back to her. Since they had both had their cars with them at the restaurant, he had followed her home so she could pick up a few of her things. The ride over to his new apartment had been a little tense until she'd suddenly decided to reach over and just grab his hand. It was strange how just that little bit of physical contact was enough to keep the tension away.

Around three or four o'clock in the morning they'd both decided that they were too excited to sleep, but too exhausted to continue their previous activities, so they'd settled down on the couch to watch a movie. Apparently they'd been more tired than they had thought.

He was lying on his left side. She was surprised that he hadn't fallen off the couch in the middle of the night. His right arm was cradling her close to him, disappearing between her back and the couch cushion. His left arm jutted out so that he was holding his own head with his left hand. Her head was resting against his arm like it was a pillow.

Her arms were spread around him, too. One folded up against his chest, the other draped over his waist. His legs were tangled up in hers and she couldn't really tell where his boxers ended and her borrowed sweats began. But as close as they were, it wasn't uncomfortable. Far from it, in fact.

She sank into him a little bit more, trying not to wake him. She knew they'd eventually have to wake up and move, but she wanted to make this last as long as she possibly could. In a way it was almost scary how happy she felt at this moment. Like it was tempting fate that everything could have turned out so right after so long. Any minute now she expected to wake up and find herself alone in her room, to find out it had just been a dream. Or maybe she'd roll over and see Roy's back instead, his familiar light snoring mocking her fantasies.

But no, it was real. She kept her eyes open just so she couldn't imagine that it wasn't actually happening when she knew that it really was. It had taken them years to get to this point and she wasn't about to give in to her fears. She knew she was finally here, and she knew that he was, too. His letters had made everything clear, and he had definitely reassured her of it last night.

Ten minutes later, she realized that as much as she was still enjoying this feeling, she really had to go to the bathroom. She cautiously extracted herself from his arms and climbed off the couch. She stopped for just a second to look at him. Asleep, he looked so peaceful that she wondered what he was dreaming about. Wondered if he had ever dreamed about her the way she'd spent so many nights dreaming about him.

-----

He woke up to find himself alone on the couch. He glanced around the living room but there was no sign of Pam. He quickly stood, rubbing his eyes. He was just starting to worry when he found her in his room.

She was sound asleep, lying on her stomach in his bed. The very fact that she was in his bed was still surreal to him. But as he looked at her there in the shafts of morning sunlight that were streaming in through his blinds, he loved that having her there felt so familiar. She was wearing an old pair of his sweat pants, and a pale pink cami she'd brought with her. He wondered if he had ever seen her look better. With a small sigh, he turned to go brush his teeth, and maybe start making some breakfast. He knew it would be a good day.

Three hours later, after they'd both woken up and eaten breakfast together, Pam was rooting through the boxes in his closet.

"Ha!" she exclaimed. "And you thought you could hide them from me!"

He smiled. "I wasn't hiding them; you just weren't looking hard enough."

She rolled her eyes and tucked her treasure under her arm before settling back down onto his bed. "You could have at least given me a hint."

"I thought you'd give up and ask me flat-out where they were." Jim assured her, wrapping his arms back around her waist as she scooted back to sit between his knees, her head leaning backwards onto his half-propped up chest.

"Give up? Who do you think I am, Halpert? I would never give up on something as important as this."

"My dream girl letters are this important?"

"Of course they are," she replied. "Besides, I think we both know they're really my dream girl letters now."

"Always have been," he answered.

"Oh please. You were practically falling all over this Chelsea girl. I want to read more about her."

"Pam! I was like twenty years old! I didn't know any better. Besides, why do you care? Are you jealous?" he said, teasing her.

Pam waved her hand in the air, dismissively, "I'm just kidding. After all, you're talking to the girl who spent almost ten years with her high school crush."

"Fair point. Anyway, I still think you should start at the beginning and read them chronologically. It'll make more sense that way."

"Fine. But I reserve the right to mock you at all times," she said, snuggling further down until her head was resting on his chest.

"Duly noted."

Pam looked at the stack of papers in her hand. It was a little hard to read the messy handwriting, but she soon found it was well worth the effort.

Dear Girl of my Dreams,

I still don't know why Mom's making me do this, but she said I have to write a page before we can start my party and Jason's coming over in half an hour so I guess I'll just have to get this over with.

I'm 11 now. I have brown hair and green eyes and I still have some freckles, but not as many as I used to. That's good though because every one thinks they're so cute. I hate being called cute. Nothing really happened this year. We moved to a new house a few months ago. Oh, and I got a new bike for Christmas, but that was a long time ago.

We still don't have any cool video games, but I get to play a bunch of them whenever I go over to Jason's. Well, I don't know what else to write, so I think I'll stop. I hope I don't have to do this again next year, but I probably will.

From,

Jim

"Aw, you were so cute! I wish I'd known you when you were little."

"No you don't; trust me. I was a total dork," Jim said, absently running his hands through her hair.

"And how exactly is that different from now?"

"Shut up."

She smiled and continued to read.

Dear Dream Girl,

Today I'm turning 15. A lot of stuff has changed since last year. Like my sister left for college, so now I'm the oldest one at home. It's really weird because I think my parents think I'm a totally different person than I really am. Like they still think I'm just a nice little kid who gets good grades and does all his homework. Oh, by the way, mom said she'd stop reading these this year, so that's why I can tell you all this stuff. I just have to show her that I wrote a whole page instead of like three sentences.

So. Um... I don't really know what else to write. I guess I could tell you about high school. I just started my sophomore year, and guess what? I made the JV basketball team! I played on the freshman team last year, but I wasn't sure if the coach would pick me for JV, but then I talked to him at the tryouts and he said I should definitely go for it. It was great! So now I'm practicing with the team and everything. I really want to make Varsity next year, but they don't usually let that many juniors on to the team and even when they do they don't let them start or anything. It would still be really cool though.

Okay, well, that's probably long enough. Have a good year, dream girl!

From,

Jim

"Wow, Jim. Like basketball much?" Pam said, setting the letter down with the others.

He shrugged.

"I still can't believe your mom made you write these. That is too cute."

"She'll be glad to know you approve. She kept telling me someday some girl was gonna love them."

"Well, she was right," Pam said as she picked up the next letter in her stack.

-----

Jim wasn't sure why exactly they were doing this, but apparently Pam was enjoying it, so he wasn't going to complain. Besides, sitting here with her like this was like a dream come true for him. Pam was here, in his apartment, lying in his bed with him, and he was allowed to play with her hair, and rub her shoulders and run his hands up and down her arms as much as he wanted. Yeah, he wasn't about to complain.

He looked down to see which letter she was on now.

Dear Dream Girl,

Happy Birthday to ME! That's right, as of today I am officially 18 years old! It's awesome, except...uh... I haven't really done anything yet. I figured I'd write this in the morning since I fully expect to be partying all night long tonight. My friends Meg and Jason are coming over in a couple hours. Meg's kind of like my girlfriend actually, but we're not really serious or anything. We just hang out with the same people, so we're always doing stuff together.

Anyway, we're having this awesome party later. I wish you could come. It's weird how I sort of think of you as a real person sometimes. Well, I mean, I'm sure you're a real person, but I don't know you yet, so it's kind of weird that I'd want to hang out with you. But I do. I think we're gonna be really good friends. I just hope we don't meet until I'm at least 25. I still have a lot of stuff I want to do before I find the one person I want to be with forever, you know?

I think I'd better go get ready for tonight. We still have a bunch of stuff to do before the party.

Love,

Jim

P.S. I forgot about my mom's rule that these have to be a page long, so I'm just writing a little bit more. I hope you don't think I'm really weird for what I said earlier about thinking of you as a real person. I just have this really good idea of what I think you'll be like. I know most people probably don't think about this stuff, but I do. Anyway, I hope you have a great year. You're awesome. Or, well, I'm sure you will be. Love ya dream girl!

"Awww! You were so sweet!" Pam said, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. "How'd you get to be so adorable?"

"Adorable? Pam, I'm pretty sure guys aren't supposed to be adorable," he said, doing his best to look offended.

"Well, you were adorable. Thinking about me all the time? That's just too cute. Even for you."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he just let her continue running her fingers along his scalp. He loved that they could be like this. It was so them to just tease each other and laugh. Just like they'd always done, only now it was a million times better because they could do it while lying in bed together on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

"Okay, where's the next one?"

"Are you sure you want to keep reading these?" he asked. "They're not really that entertaining."

"Yes they are. I love them."

"Okay then, you stay here and read," he said, climbing over her to hop off the bed.

"Wait, where are you going?" she asked, and he could see the beginnings of a pout on her face.

"To make lunch."

"But you already made me breakfast," she called out as he began walking down the hallway.

"I know, but breakfast didn't include my famous grilled cheese sandwiches," he called back.

"Dork." It was faint, but he could just barely hear her say it as he reached the kitchen. He smiled to himself, wondering not for the first time, when exactly hearing her call him a dork had become such a good thing.

-----

Back in Jim's room Pam picked up another letter.

Dear Dream Girl,

Today is my twenty-fourth birthday. Sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am. I have a great girlfriend. A decent job. An awesome family. Life is pretty much perfect. It's just funny that every once in awhile, I still feel like something is missing. I mean, it's weird. I don't even know what it would be, because like I said, I basically have everything I need, it's just... I don't know. I'm just not as fun as I used to be.

I guess I'm just growing up, huh? Anyway, I should probably just talk to you about all this, but I don't really know how to explain it. And really, it doesn't have anything to do with you, Chels, you're great. It's just me, being weird, I guess.

Life just doesn't always turn out the way you thought it would, you know? Like I always imagined that when the two of us got together we'd spend all our time just laughing and having fun together, but you can't really do that. You still have to go to work and deal with things like rent, and car insurance, and taxes. And whose turn it is to do the dishes. That's just life. And not every single minute of it can be fun, no matter how great your girlfriend is.

Well, I guess I'd better finish this so we can get back to decorating for the thing tonight. Sorry I'm in such a weird mood this year. Like I said, I must just be getting old.

Love you, Chels

I mean, dream girl!

Pam set the letter down on the bed and leaned down to rest her head on Jim's pillow. It was so strange to think of Jim at 24 sounding so much older than he did now. In a way she was reminded of how serious he had seemed when he first came back from Stamford. He had been so intent on doing well at work, and at the time it had bugged her because she had thought it was just Karen trying to make him take things seriously instead of just goofing off all the time.

Now, though, she wasn't so sure. She'd always known there was a more serious side to him, but this letter just made him sound so...weary. For a second she was almost mad at this Chelsea girl for letting him get like that. No one should be tired of life at 24. Especially not Jim.

In the next minute, though, she remembered herself at that age. She had worked as a receptionist ever since she dropped out of community college. When she was 24, Roy had been working two jobs to cover the payments on the truck and their new apartment. But other than that there was nothing that really stuck out to her about being 24. In fact, now that she looked back on them, the years between high school and meeting Jim were just a big blur of monotonous jobs, weekends spent watching movies and football games on the couch, and staying in a failing relationship just because it was easier to pretend everything was perfect than it was to imagine starting over alone.

She never wanted to end up like that again. She knew life with Jim wouldn't always be perfect, but as she skimmed over that last letter one more time she silently vowed never to let them get complacent with their lives. After all, life was supposed to be fun, and now that they'd finally found each other she'd do her best to make sure they never lost sight of that.

"Hey, you want to come eat?" Jim asked, appearing in the doorway.

"Yeah," she said, looking up at him. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. And then sort of out of the blue it occurred to her that she'd never actually told him that she loved him out loud. She'd written it down plenty of times, and she'd definitely implied it with her actions last night and this morning, but for some reason she'd never vocalized the thought.

-----

She was giving him the strangest look, and he wondered if he'd done something wrong. He knew he should have looked over those letters again. What if she'd read something in one of them that had made her feel weird, or something? What exactly had he said about Chelsea anyway? And didn't Pam know by now that no one had ever really been his dream girl, but her?

"What is it?" he asked, a little warily.

"Just, come here," she said, still giving him that serious look.

"Okay, what?" he repeated, sitting next to her on the edge of the bed.

"Jim, I just want you to know that I love you. I really, really love you." It was so unexpected, and so sincere, that he instantly felt the prick of tears in his eyes. He had the overwhelming urge to just kiss her right then, but she was still talking. "Jim, I've loved you for so long now, and I don't think I'll ever stop."

"I love you, too," he said, simply. He was momentarily transfixed by the way her eyes softened and her whole face turned from its serious cast into a warm smile.

"I don't want you to ever sound like this, okay?" she said, gesturing toward the letter in her lap.

"Sound like what?" he asked, reaching down to skim the letter quickly.

"Just so tired of life," Pam answered.

"Yeah, I don't think that's gonna happen." he said, looking into her eyes with a smile.

"But if it does, you'll talk to me about it, right?" she asked, unwilling to let it go.

He paused for a second, noting the concern on her face. "Yeah," he replied seriously.

"Good."

"And you'll talk to me about that kind of stuff too, right?"

"Definitely."

"Okay, good."

"I love you, Pam," he said, thinking about the number of long meetings at work, unvoiced thoughts, winks, nudges, pranks on Dwight, and letters it had taken them to get to this point.

"I know," she said, almost as if she was responding to his unspoken thoughts. "I love you so much."

He leaned down to kiss her warmly and when she immediately responded, he thought about telling her that their grilled cheese sandwiches were getting cold, but when Pam's arms reached around him and he could feel her fingernails digging lightly into his back as she pulled herself closer to him, he decided the sandwiches could wait.

The fog was drifting over the distant hills. She could barely see them in the grayish morning light that shone through the branches of the eucalyptus tree outside her bedroom window. Marsha rolled over once more, wondering if she was really tired enough to go back to sleep. She had no other plans for this Sunday morning, but her body never seemed to want to sleep in later than about eight o'clock these days, no matter how late she'd gone to bed the night before.

California. No wonder everyone wanted to live here-almost January, and the worst weather she'd seen so far was a little bit of rain. No snow, better pay, her kids close by. Why hadn't she done this years ago? And now that her house had finally sold back in Scranton, maybe she'd be able to start paying Tony back for all his help. He'd done so much already. Flying her out here to visit, and then finding her a job and an apartment in the same city where he and Kathy lived with Sean and Audrey. It was more than she could've hoped for.

There wasn't one thing she missed about her life back in Scranton. Well, that wasn't true. Of course there was no way she could regret the move, but every once in a while she missed some things. Sometimes she missed the way the old familiar house had creaked a little bit on frosty mornings, and that nippy feeling in the air, right before a big snowstorm. Every so often she missed her old co-workers, and how they'd squabbled over little things-like whose turn it was to vacuum that night. The one thing she missed most of all were the letters.

Of course, that was just silly. She would never admit to anyone else that she missed a bunch of silly little love letters she'd rescued from a garbage can in an office building. In fact, she hadn't ever mentioned the letters to Tony or Sean-or even to Audrey, who might have at least been sympathetic, even if she wouldn't have really understood what was so special about them.

But they were special to her. That was why she was afraid to talk about them. It was those letters that had first helped her find herself again after years of aimless drudgery. Pam's letters had given her something to look forward to at a time when she really had nothing else. And meeting Jim in that coffee shop had shown her that she really did have the courage to make changes in her life, or in other people's lives. Those letters had given her that strength. And now they were gone.

She didn't even know what had happened between Jim and Pam after she left. Although, she was pretty sure she could guess. From the little she knew about Jim, she was sure he would take care of everything once he knew for sure how Pam still felt. That was why she'd sent him Pam's letters. Marsha had meant to break the news of Pam's feelings gently, but once she'd gotten Audrey's letter, Marsha had known that she had more important things to take care of in her own life.

That was almost a year ago now, and she'd only been back to Scranton once to pack up some more of her things and send them with the movers to California. She'd thought about trying to visit the Dunder Mifflin offices that weekend, but she knew no one would be around, and even if they were, she thought it was unlikely Jim would remember who she was, since they'd only met that one time. As for Pam, Marsha didn't even know what she looked like.

Well, it was no use. Sleep just wasn't coming back. She might as well make some breakfast and get ready for her day. She had planned a shopping trip with Audrey, who was home from Berkeley for the weekend. And Sean had mentioned something about going to a movie later. After making some coffee and toast, Marsha was on the way to the living room to flip through the channels for a bit when she grabbed the mail pile on her way, intending to sort through it as she ate breakfast. She never got anything interesting in the mail, so she'd gotten in a bad habit of just tossing it all in a pile all week long and then sorting out the bills and bank statements at the end of the week.

Today was no different. Hidden among the piles of supersaver ads and offers for magazines were just three envelopes. Marsha eyed the first warily. Her credit card bill. Great. The second was something from her insurance company and the third looked like a late Christmas card. It was from someone named Beesly in Pennsylvania and had been re-directed from her old address. No wonder it had gotten to her so late.

She ripped the envelope open as she tried to remember how she knew the Beeslys. Were they old friends of her kids from school there? That didn't seem right. Perhaps someone she'd worked with? She stopped when a piece of tissue paper and a photo fell into her lap. She looked down at the elaborately scrolled piece of ivory paper in her hands. This was no Christmas card.

Mr. and Mrs. Carl and Annette Beesly are pleased to announce the marriage of their daughter Pamela Jane to James Nathaniel Halpert son of...

A wedding announcement! Marsha drew in a gasp as she continued to read. They were getting married in May. She picked up the photo that was sitting in her lap to see a smiling Jim holding a woman who must be Pam in his arms, next to a large tree. They looked so happy, she could hardly take her eyes off them. Then she noticed that there was still something in the envelope.

Dear Marsha,

We just wanted to thank you for everything you did to help us to get here.

Except for the part when you totally creeped me out in that coffee shop, oh, and the part where you delivered my dream girl letters without my permission. I had no idea you were that devious.

He's kidding. We're grateful for EVERYTHING. Even when you did sneaky things behind our backs, because obviously we needed it.

Right. And we really hope you'll get this and keep in touch. We've been trying to call you, but the line's been disconnected. So, we got your address from the janitorial company. Well, Pam got your address from the janitorial company.

What? Just because you were too scared to pose as a member of the IRS! I still can't believe we didn't come up with a better excuse for needing that information, by the way.

Whatever. The point is, we got your address and we tried to stop by, but the people at your house said you'd moved, and then we didn't know what to do.

But we really hope that you'll get this and call us back because we'd love to thank you in person. If it weren't for you, I'd probably still be writing those pointless letters and Jim would still be dating Karen and anyway, life would just suck. So thank you for helping us to fix what we were too stubborn or too scared to fix ourselves.

Oh, and we really do want you to come to the wedding, so RSVP soon. According to one of our co-workers a person who doesn't RSVP at least three weeks before the event doesn't deserve to come at all.

Seriously? You're gonna end this by quoting Angela?

I'm just trying to get her to call us!

Okay, I think we're about done here. Wherever you are Marsha, we just wanted to say thanks. And please do call. We'd love to talk to you.

Sincerely,

Pam Beesly

and

Jim Halpert

P.S. Pam stole the letter before I could finish saying goodbye. Which I really think should be my job seeing as how I'm the one who actually met you, and besides Pam got to start the letter, so I should get to finish it. Anyway, in case we didn't make it clear we really are grateful. Me especially. You have no idea how much I needed to hear everything that was in Pam's letters. Well, anyway, thanks again!

- Jim

Marsha couldn't help but laugh a little as she read over their letters one more time. She should have known Jim and Pam would still want to talk to her. When she got to the end again, she glanced over at the clock. If it was 9:30 here that would make it 12:30 in Scranton. With a smile, she reached for the phone and dialed the cell number Pam had scribbled next to her signature.

-----

Five years later...

"Mom! I'm home!"

"In here," she called.

"Hey."

"Hey, kiddo. How was school?"

"Eh."

"That good, huh?"

"Least it's over."

"Yeah. No school for another three months, right?"

"Uh-huh. I'm gonna go watch the game."

"Okay." Marsha smiled to herself as her son finished pouring the milk into his usual after-school bowl of cereal, and then walked out of the kitchen and plopped himself onto one of the oversized chairs in her living room. One syllable conversations were supposedly the norm for teenage boys, but Sean seemed to have a particularly well-honed ability to get by with the fewest number of words possible.

Still, it was nice to have him talking at all. It seemed like Audrey's calls were becoming fewer and further apart the longer she spent away from home. And now that her daughter was off interning in Washington for the summer; Marsha knew she'd be lucky to hear from Audrey more than once a week at the most.

Marsha wished there was some way she could make up for all those years she could've spent with her kids while they were growing up, but even now, when she'd been living near them for almost five years, she knew she'd never be able to stop regretting all that time she'd missed.

Letting out a little sigh, she wiped the counter one last time and grabbed the stack of mail Sean had brought in from the box on his way inside.

Three more college brochures for Sean, a utilities bill, and a letter. A letter? She never got letters. Except...

Marsha smiled as she checked the return address. Yep. Scranton.

Dear Auntie Marsha,

Thanks for the pretty doll you gived me. I like it a lot. I am writing this letter and telling Daddy what to say. He says I should say I love you. Now I am four years old. The end.

Love,

The signature was a bit abstract but Jim had added a helpful caption below it.

(Veronica)

P.S. This is Jim. Just wanted to say thanks from Pam and me, too. Ronnie loves the doll. Spends hours with it, actually. Anyway, just wanted to let you know you're welcome to stay with us if you happen to feel like visiting Scranton again this summer. We'll be a little busy with the new little guy in August, but I'm sure Ronnie and Pam would both love to have you and Sean come before then. And Audrey if she's around, of course. Hope all's well! Say hi to your kids for me.

"What's that?" Sean asked, looking over at her when the A's game switched to commercials.

"It's a thank you letter from Veronica for her birthday present. Jim says we should come stay with them this summer. What do you think?"

"Sure. Sounds good to me."

"I'll bet he takes you to a Phillies game again."

"Uh-huh," Sean said, reverting back to his usual conversation style now that the game was back on. But when Marsha looked up a bit later, she was pretty sure Sean's small smile had little to do with the fact that whoever was batting had just hit another foul.

-----

Several years after that...

The dust was thick in this part of the garage. Audrey was pretty sure her mom hadn't looked at some of these boxes since she'd moved into this house ten years ago, and chances were good she hadn't actually looked inside the boxes in an even longer time. With a sigh Audrey grabbed another one and lugged it over the ever-growing pile in the other corner of the garage where her mom was supposedly sorting through them. In reality, sorting had turned into reminiscing about every single object her mom had collected in her life and trying to figure out how to get it all back into a box so Audrey could return it to the other side of the garage. She should've known that volunteering to help her mom get rid of all her junk would devolve into this.

"Here's another one," she said, setting down the box. "How's it coming?"

"Not too bad. I'm getting rid of all that stuff."

Audrey looked to the stack of papers her mother had tossed onto the floor next to her and then at the much larger stack that was still on the table. "What about those?" she asked.

"Oh, I can't get rid of everything," Marsha replied.

"Right. Sorry. Hey, what about this box?" Audrey asked, trying to see if there was some way to speed up this process. She'd left her kids with a sitter and even though they loved playing with Riann, she had been hoping to get back before 6. "Mom?" Audrey asked again when Marsha didn't answer.

"Hm? Oh, um, what does the label say?"

"Uh... J and P."

"Oh, no. I'm keeping all of that."

"Mom!" Audrey was trying hard to keep the exasperation out of her voice at this point. "You can't keep everything. Do you really need this box?"

"Yes. That one I need. Some of these other ones, maybe not. But I need that one."

"Why? What's so special about this one?"

"See for yourself," her mom replied cryptically.

Audrey opened the lid on the box to find a neatly organized stack of papers. She picked up the top one to read it. She was surprised to see that the date at the top of the page was from only a few months ago.

Dear Marsha,

It's been awhile since we've written and I'm sorry about that. Jim and I have been thinking about you a lot lately, so we thought we'd send you a surprise. I'm not sure if you'll even be interested in these, but we thought if you weren't you could just get rid of them. We also wanted to thank you again for everything you've done for us. I can't imagine what my life would be like if you hadn't started saving those letters out of my garbage can. Actually, I guess I can imagine, but I'd really rather not think about it.

Anyway, we're all doing well here. Veronica was on the swim team this year and is starting to think about colleges, which is frankly disturbing. I don't know where my little girl went, but I can't believe she'll be gone by this time next year. Caleb is starting seventh grade in the fall, and he's been getting involved in leadership at his school. He's so charismatic--just like Jim. Even at thirteen, he knows exactly how to work a crowd. Sometimes I can't believe they're so grown up.

Well, I'd better go. I hope Sean and Audrey are doing well. We'd love to hear from you soon!

Love,

Pam

P.S. In case you were concerned, these are all just copies, I doubt we'll ever give up the originals, but we thought you might appreciate seeing some of these again.

Audrey set the letter aside, realizing now what J and P stood for. Her mom had never been really clear about how she'd met Jim and Pam, but Audrey knew they were good friends of hers from Scranton and that they still kept in touch through letters every now and then. She'd asked her mom once about the letter thing, wondering why they didn't just use e-mail, but her mom had just smiled and said that letters were nicer than e-mails sometimes.

She looked down at the rest of the stack and was a little surprised to see that the top one was another letter. This one began, "Dear Dream Girl." Curious now, she rifled through the rest of the stack and then turned to see her mom looking down at her indulgently.

"What are all these?" Audrey asked.

"Well, it's a pretty long story, but I've been thinking about telling it to you for years." Marsha said, a smile spreading across her wrinkle-lined face.

Audrey bit her lip. She had really been hoping to finish this cleaning job today, but she couldn't get rid of that curious feeling. Her mom had already stood and begun to make her way through the boxes toward the door that led inside the house. With a smile Audrey followed her inside, balancing the box of letters in one hand as she brought them inside, and using her other hand to turn off the garage light and shut the door behind her.

Marsha marched into Dunder-Mifflin at 10:00 am on the following Friday. She had never been to the office in daylight before, but it really wasn't any different. Just lighter. And with more people.

She turned to look at Jim.

"What is wrong with you? Are you deranged? Pam's clearly in love with you and you want to write her letters instead of talk about it?"

Pam looked stricken. She had no idea who this woman was, but it was obvious she knew all about her situation with Jim.

Suddenly, Karen lunged at Marsha from behind.

But Marsha had come prepared for this very moment. With a shriek of primordial anger she clawed at Karen. They wrestled their way toward the front door where Marsha reached for the flame-thrower she had hidden behind the plant last Wednesday night. Then, without warning, the entire hallway was engulfed in flames.

This was the moment Dwight had been waiting for. He leapt into action, and soon everyone was on the roof waiting their turn to jump into the bouncy trampoline that the fire squad had set up. Everyone, that is, except Marsha and Karen, who hadn't stopped wrestling even as the fire reached colossal proportions.

Phyllis was the first to jump, with a scream of utter terror.

Finally only Jim and Pam were still on the roof.

"Jim! Just in case we don't make it, I just want to say that that woman was right! I am so in love with you."

"Oh Pam! I love you too!"

As their lips smashed together in a surge of pure love, they clasped hands and jumped to safety.

Five minutes later they were still making out as the pile of ashes that had once been Dunder-Mifflin slowly fizzled.

The rest of the employees were huddled together in a group hug, with Ryan in the middle. The group had a moment of silence for their lost co-worker, Karen, and the brave woman who had given her life to save Jim and Pam's relationship. Unfortunately the moment was interrupted by Kevin's flatulence, at which point the group hug quickly disintegrated.

Their jobs now gone, the office mates slowly left the parking lot, waving goodbye to each other with tears in their eyes.

"What are we going to do now Jim? All I know how to do is be a receptionist, and you only know how to sell paper."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I have it all figured out. Just say you love me and want to spend the rest of your life with me, and I'll take care of everything."

"I do Jim! I want to be with you forever and ever and ever."

"Good. Come on!"

With that they hopped in Jim's car and drove straight to the airport.

When their flight landed in Vegas, Pam woke up with her head on Jim's shoulder. She was embarrassed by the obvious drool stain, but he didn't seem to mind.

They rushed to the nearest all-night wedding chapel, said their vows and then got down to business.

Three weeks later they had both secured steady jobs as strippers in a large night club, and had made enough money to send a bouquet of gratitude and condolence to Marsha's family. They would never forget the kindly janitor who had finally brought them together.