Jim isn’t sure how Michael got corporate to approve mini golf as a team building activity, but here they are. It’s unusually hot for early May, he can feel the sweat slowly soaking the back of his shirt, and they’re only on the fifth hole. Pam is a step ahead of him, waiting for Kevin to take his turn. She had abandoned her cardigan on the bus, but he would still see her wiping her forehead with the back of her hand every couple of minutes. Everyone was growing miserable, and he wants to get out before Michael makes another “put it in the hole” joke.

He nudges Pam’s shoulder with his own before leaning down near her ear, “Believe it or not, this place has the best hot dogs.”

She looks at him with a raised eyebrow, “How often do you come here?”

“This was the go-to birthday spot, Pam.  The lady who gave us our clubs was the attendant at my eighth birthday party, I had a huge crush on her.”

She gives him his favorite smile, her tongue poking out between her teeth, eyes sparkling. He’s only known her for less than two weeks at this point, but he’s come to love this smile more than anything. “That’s so cute. You know, you should ask her out.”

“I am really into the gray hair.” He looks up when he hears Michael make a ball joke, then turns back to Pam. “How’s that hot dog sounding?”

“Perfect, let’s go.”

They sit at a table near the arcade after getting two hot dogs, two cokes, and an order of fries to share. He rips open his packet of ketchup and watches as she does the same, spreading it on top of her food. It’s not until she takes her first bite that he glances down to see her ketchup packet is actually hot sauce, but it’s too late. When he looks at her again, her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed, and even though he feels bad, honestly, he can’t help but start to laugh.

She reaches for the napkins to spit out the bite and then takes a few gulps of her soda, which doesn’t actually seem to help any. In fact, it seems to just make it worse as she starts mumbling, “Oh my God,” repeatedly, which just makes him laugh more. She glares at him as she practically pants, but he can see the smile she’s trying to hide.

He quickly gets up and grabs an ice cream cup from the freezer, handing it to her before going to the counter to pay for it. By the time he gets back, her cheeks are only tinted pink and she’s pushing the now empty ice cream cup away from her.

He sits back down, popping a fry into his mouth, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I think. They should really not put the ketchup and hot sauce so close together.”

He chuckles, “You’re right, it’s not like they’re labeled or anything.”

“They’re both red! This is not my fault, no one reads the labels.”

“Of course.” He nudges his hot dog towards her, “You want mine?”

She’s about to answer when the door behind her swings open and they see Dwight standing in the doorway. “What are you two doing in here?”

Jim gestures towards the food in front of them, “Making sure they’re up to code.”

Dwight glares, trying to decide if Jim is bluffing or not, ultimately finding the argument not worth it. “Michael needs Pam to take notes.”

“Notes about what? We’re playing minigolf.”

“This is a team building activity, Newbie. Michael always has Pam take notes so he can review them later.”

Pam rolls her eyes and stands up, tossing her hot dog and soda in the trash, “C’mon, before Michael makes me sit through another meeting about listening.”

He grabs his untouched hot dog and soda and throws them out as well as Pam starts to follow Dwight back out the door. He turns to catch up with her when he spots the two hot sauce packets she left behind and, after checking to make sure her and Dwight didn’t see him, quickly stuffs them into his pocket.

He tells himself he’ll use them to somehow prank Dwight, but instead they end up on his desk, next to the mini pencil Pam had thrown at him at the end of the game, beginning the collection of things that remind him that she’s worth waiting for.

Jim walks into Dunder Mifflin, greeting Pam as usual. He raises an eyebrow at her when she looks at him and greets him nonchalantly, instantly knowing something is going on. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m keeping an eye on you, Beesly.”

She just shrugs and turns back towards her computer. He waits a second to see if she’ll cave and clue him in, but she doesn’t so he heads over to his desk.

He slings his messenger bag over the back of his chair before dropping down into it. He can see Pam glancing over at him out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t look at her. He wants to figure out what she’s up to.

He turns on his computer and then the monitor, leaning back in his chair as it comes to life. He types in his password once the login screen appears, continuing to watch Pam from his peripheral as the desktop loads. She’s just watching him now, not even bothering to try to be sneaky about it anymore. But he doesn’t notice anything off, besides Pam’s behavior, and as tempted as he is to go up and ask her again, he decides to at least check his email first.

That is, until he moves his mouse, but the cursor stays still. His eyebrows furrow and he tries wiggling his mouse again, but still nothing happens. He looks back up at Pam to see her grinning, a small giggle escaping her.

“What did you do?”

Still giggling, she answers, “Nothing.”

He attempts to move the mouse one more time with no result before flipping his mouse over and laughing. “Nice one.”

“Pretty good for a first prank, right?”

He carefully removes the picture of Dwight she had taped onto the bottom of his mouse and walks up to reception, taping it to her desk instead. “I’m impressed, though I’m also a little offended that you would do this to me, when we could be working together against this very man,” he says, pointing to the picture of Dwight.

“You’d want me to help you prank Dwight?”

“Hell yeah. I mean, I’ll have to get you past the beginner moves, but I think we make a good team, don’t you?”

He knows his job is to talk to clients about paper and prices and everything he never actually wants to talk about. He knows that his job is to make phone calls, reply to emails, fill out paperwork. But most days, he feels like the most important part of his job is getting Pam to smile at him like she is right now.

“Absolutely we do.”

He’s seen her rest her eyes before. Whether it was during another boring safety video or to ward off a headache from Michael, he would catch Pam leaning over a notebook with her eyes closed, trying to block out the world around her. He knew she was never really asleep, would see her mindlessly doodle on the notebook in front of her or nod along to whatever it was Michael was telling her, but he still loved those moments when he got to see yet another side of her.  

But seeing her rest her eyes from across the room is nothing compared to right now.

She’s asleep on his shoulder, and he is trying so hard to keep still so he can savor this moment until he can’t anymore. Jim had never once hoped that Michael’s meetings would last longer than necessary until this moment, now wanting nothing more than to listen to her slowed breathing and watch her eyelashes flutter. These are the moments that keep him from leaving. He shouldn’t rely on them, she’s engaged, he knows that, but knowing that just enforces the fact that he will never get these kinds of moments with her outside of these four walls.

But then Michael is dismissing everyone and the moment is coming to an end.

He waits until everyone else is gone, giving him just a second longer with her on his shoulder. But he doesn’t want to have anyone notice, have them ask questions or make comments. So, he leans over and whispers, “Hey,” and she stirs.

He follows her out the door, goes to his desk to start gathering his things to go home. The camera crew calls him back into the conference room for one last interview, asks him how his day was today. And despite losing one of his biggest sales, to Dwight of all people, and having to deal with Michael’s games, he answers them honestly.

“Not a bad day.”

Maybe it was how quickly she came up with a way to help him this morning with his impromptu telekinesis prank. Maybe it was the wink that she gave him, right in front of Roy, after they pulled it off. Maybe it was the way she looked, that periwinkle dress hugging her perfectly, her curls a little neater, making him want to run his fingers through them. Maybe it was the looks she gave him from across the poker table, trying not to smile but failing to do so, her giggles when he would call her out on it. Maybe it was all of this and every other thing she has done – pranks, lunches, drawings, breathing – within the last seven years that has him confessing to her.

He had reached his breaking point, it was either now or never. And even though her words confirming it really would be never, that she can’t, are ringing through his mind on loop, he still finds himself following her up to the office. He kisses her, because if he’s gone this far, he might as well give her everything he’s got. She kisses him back and he thinks maybe, just maybe, she changed her mind. She can, and she will, and it’ll all be okay.

But then she says she’s still going to marry Roy, and the pieces of his heart that were slowly coming back together with every second that his lips were on hers, are shattered once more.

The worst part, he thinks as he leaves her in the office, getting ready to call Jan to confirm the transfer, is the look she gave him as he turns to walk away. It’s the same look she gave Toby after his divorce, or Angela when one of her cats die. Her look that says, I’m so sorry and I wish I could do something to make this better.

Because she doesn’t like hurting people, he knows that. She would never intentionally crush him like he is right now, would never lead him on, knowing she would have to, one day, turn him down. So, somehow, even though he feels like his heart has all but disintegrated, he loves her a little more after tonight, because she doesn’t deserve anything less.

For a second, it’s just them. There’s no past between them, no future, just right now, her soft laugh in response to his request for a copy of Michael’s daily log. For that split second, he can almost pretend he’s still in Scranton, five feet away from her, her chuckle coming from just behind reception instead of through a phone. But then the awkward silence creeps in and they’re stuttering, and they’ve never had trouble just talking before. The past is now haunting him, the future terrifies him, and the right now feels suffocating.

“What time is it there?”

“What time is it here? Um, we’re in the same time zone.”

“Oh, yeah, right.”

“How far away did you think we were?”

“I don’t know, it felt far.”

“Yeah.”

It has, and it does, feel far, most days. Some days it still feels too close, like three hours may as well be three minutes, like she’s close enough to touch and yet still just out of reach. But most days feel far. Like she’s on the other side of the world instead of just a couple states over. Like no phone, email, letter, could make its way to her even if he did try to reach out.

He thought it was just one-sided though. That even though she had broken up with Roy, she had moved on, possibly even forgetting about the lanky salesman who sat across from her. Heaven knows he’s tried to forget about her.

But now he knows that she feels the distance too. His heart leapt when she realized it was him and she actually sounded happy to talk to him. That she was able to crack jokes and tell him about her new apartment and how she got movies mixed up. And if he was able to pretend before, he felt like he was in another reality right now. One where he never told her he loves her, or one where he did and she loved him too, and that these kinds of conversations were an everyday thing.

So, even though he knows that once they hang up, he’ll still be in Connecticut and she’ll still be in Pennsylvania, he’s gonna stay in this fake reality for as long as possible. One where he loves her and won’t stop and that’s okay.

It’s not until he’s driving home, her giggles still ringing through his ears, that he knows that the fake reality wasn’t so pretend as he had hoped.

They weren’t going to meet up tonight. He had to stay late at work, then help his mom move some boxes up to his parents’ attic after work, and then was supposed to go to a basketball game at the Y. By the time he would have been done, gotten home, showered, and got ready to head over to Pam’s, she would have been already going to bed. And since she lives across town, it didn’t really make sense for him to drive all the way over just to go to sleep when his apartment is five minutes away from the gym. So, they agreed that they would just see each other tomorrow.

But, as he was leaving his parents’ house, Mark had texted him to say that the game was cancelled. Four players had the flu, so they would just pick back up next week. He almost called Pam right then, but headed home instead, deciding to surprise her at her apartment. 

He pulls up to her apartment an hour later with a few new songs on his ipod and a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. He can hear Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne through her front door and he grins, picturing her dancing alone on the other side. He slides his key into the lock as quietly as he can, hoping she’s distracted enough to not hear the door opening. 

He peeks his head in and spots her at her stove, her back to him, and she’s mixing something together. He carefully steps inside and closes the door behind him, setting the ice cream down on the table in the entryway. He walks up and leans against the counter, listening to her sing and dance along to the radio. 

After another minute she turns around, dropping her spoon and screaming as she notices him, but doesn’t register who it is until he’s practically on the floor laughing. 

“Oh my God, Jim! You scared the hell out of me! What are you doing here?!”

“My game got cancelled, I thought I’d surprise you,” he answers, still chuckling. 

“A text would have been nice.”

“But then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”

“Yeah, but at least I wouldn’t have had a heart attack. I knew I shouldn’t have given you that key.” She had made her way over to him at this point, wrapping her arms around his waist. 

“You love me.”

She rolls her eyes and mumbles with a smile, “Yeah, yeah.”

He reaches up, “I haven’t seen these before,” he says, touching her pink oval glasses.

“Oh my God, I forgot I had these on.” 

She moves to take them off, but he stops her. “No, I like them.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, “Really?”

“Yeah, why don’t you wear them?”

She shrugs, looking a little embarrassed, “Roy would always comment on them, so I don’t know, I guess I stopped wearing them as much as possible. But my contacts were bothering me and I didn’t know I would be having company tonight,” she gives him a pointed but playful look, “so I put them on. I don’t know, they are kind of dorky.”

Maybe, he thinks, but he doesn’t care. Her hair is up in a messy bun, she’s changed into sweats and one of his t-shirts, and he remembers a time when he could only hope to see her like this. The fact that now he can, that this is now normal, makes his heart swell. 

“Well, I think you should wear them more often.”

“Shut up.”

He leans down and kisses her, because he can and that’s normal now too. He can feel her smile against his lips, her hands sliding back around him. He pulls back after a moment, kissing her forehead before looking down at her. 

“As much as I would love to keep interrupting your dinner, the ice cream I brought is currently melting on your table.”

Her eyes light up and she moves around him to the front table, opening the bag as she brings it to her freezer. “Ugh, you’re the best. I guess the key was a good idea.”

The glasses ended up on her bedroom floor a few hours later, but she put them back on the next morning as she got ready for work, giving him a small smile and a whispered, “thank you,” as she passed by him. 

It’s the combination of her thanking him (when he knows she shouldn’t need to be), of knowing she trusts him enough to wear her glasses around him, and the actual sight of seeing her in glasses, that has him falling even deeper.

They don’t do PDA. Part of it is still habit from keeping their relationship secret from the office for three months, but most of it is wanting to keep that part to themselves, instead of sharing it with the camera crew and whoever may watch the documentary later on. Jim isn’t sure exactly how much they record or how much they’ll air, but he knows they’ve dug deeper into everyone’s lives than anyone thought at the beginning of all of this. They’ve had moments he knows they’ve captured, but him and Pam have agreed to try to keep it to a minimum. 

But he’s making an exception tonight. Maybe the smell of manure has gotten to him, or maybe that beet wine was stronger than they thought, or maybe having Mose sit less than two feet away from them is making him protective, but when they go to sit on the bed to listen to Dwight read Harry Potter, he pulls Pam between his legs and against his chest. 

She glances at the camera before looking back at him and he just shrugs and holds her a little tighter. Her smile is a little shy but she snuggles up closer to him, running her fingers over the arm thats wrapped around her chest. 

He had planned on their first trip away to be different. Somewhere far away from Scranton, in a hotel that has beds big enough to comfortably fit both of them, and preferably with no camera crew following them around. But, as Dwight starts to read and Mose listens intently and with Pam curled up into him, even if the cameras are watching them, he’s glad she booked this. Dwight is a pain in the ass, but even Jim knew he was spiraling and of course Pam would want to help him. He’d give up memory foam mattresses and heated indoor pools any day if it had her looking up at him like she is now.

Besides, the camera crew doesn’t know about their trip to New York next weekend, and he doesn’t plan on them coming along. 

He’s so proud of her. He misses her, of course. Phone calls and video chats feel different when she’s three hours away instead of 20 minutes, and weekends when he isn’t able to head to New York seem to drag on, but he knows it’s not forever. She only has two more months - well, a month and three weeks (not that he’s counting or anything) - of classes, and then she’ll be back. He waited this long, he figures he can wait a couple more months.

Especially when those months are filled with text messages, IMs, and pictures she sends everyday. Little doodles, updates on her art projects, quick “I miss you”s, he loves them all. He hears the ping on his phone as he gets in the car to go home, and after seeing what she had sent him, he calls her. 

“Hey!”

He grins, “Angela as a cat, huh? And here I thought you wouldn’t be able to top Kevin as a hot dog.”

“That was some of my best work, wasn’t it?”

“MOMA worthy, really.”

She laughs, “More like the side of the fridge worthy.”

“I’ll let you know that some of my finger paintings are still on the side of my mom’s fridge, and I am very proud of that.”

She laughs again and then he hears someone call out her name and the phone muffles a little as she brings it down to answer their question. As he waits for her to finish, he holds the phone between his shoulder and ear and backs out of his parking space. It’s moments like this, when she gets interrupted by someone she knows but he doesn’t so he has to just sit there awkwardly, or when he gets her new friends’ names mixed up because there’s so many of them, or when she can only talk for a second because she’s about to go out with said new friends, and he really feels the distance between them. And he knows it’s stupid, because she makes sure to tell him about all of her new friends, and makes sure to pick up the phone, even if for only a second, before going out without him, so it’s not like she’s trying to live a life without him. He just can’t imagine not having her again, that these little moments where he’s reminded that they’re together, just not together, have him missing her a little more. 

After a moment she says to him, “Sorry. Hey, are you still coming up this weekend?”

He shakes his head, pulling himself back, “Yeah, I was gonna drive over after work on Friday.”

“Good, I miss you.”

And then there’s moments like these, when he can hear the disappointment in her voice when he has to cancel a weekend visit, or when she calls him, drunk, after going out and tells him how much she wishes he was there with her, that the missing her doesn’t stop, but it gets a little easier to ignore. Because he knows she’s counting down the days until she’s home too. 

Besides, it’s only another month and three weeks. 

It isn’t often that Jim can say that Michael had a good idea. It’s even less often that Jim can say that Michael executed that idea just as well as he says he will. But, today, he has to give it to him. The murder game was what everyone needed to get their minds off of the possibility of losing their jobs, including him. And he’s grateful for that.

He won’t lie though when he says that his favorite part of the game was just watching Pam go along with it all. She knows Michael, knew that he wanted to play this game in order to keep everyone calm, and even if she thought it was stupid, she supported him. He loves her for that. 

Well, maybe that wasn’t his actual favorite part. He loves that Pam loves Michael, but what he loved even more was her southern accent. When she took on her character, even he was able to forget about the bad news for a minute. 

And even though he wasn’t a fan of the game at first, he can’t help but continue putting on the accent while making comments on the drive home. 

He takes her hand as they walk to their front door and after opening it for her, he bows and puts on his own southern drawl, “Ladies first, I do declare.”

She giggles and offers a small curtsey, “Why thank you, Mr. Halpert.”

He follows her inside and helps her take off her coat before removing his. “And what may a pretty lady like you have planned for this evening?”

“Hmm,” she hums, walking towards him, “I do believe my betrothed promised me only the finest dining that Scranton here has to offer.”

“He surely must have meant Alfredo’s Pizza Cafe, then.”

“I believe you are right, I do declare.”

He laughs and then leans down and kisses her quickly, “I’ll order while you pick out a movie?”

Jim chuckles and hands Pam another tissue as the ending credits of The Blind Side start rolling. She laughs at herself as she wipes her eyes. “Why did I pick this movie?”

“You must be in the mood for southern accents today.”

She leans back against the couch. “I do love a good accent.”

“Yeah?” She nods in response and then stands to clear their dishes from the coffee table. Before she can get far though, he comes up behind her and takes the plates from her hands. Her eyebrow slightly raises at him and he grins as he says in his own southern accent, “Let me get those for you, darlin’.”

She giggles, “You know I already love you without the accent, right?”

He puts the dishes in the sink before turning back to her, “Well, perhaps this will make you love me a little more.”

She wraps her arms around his back once he gets close enough to her and switches to her accent, “Mmm, I do not think that is possible, I do declare.”

His hands find her waist. “I do believe it’s worth a shot, my dear.”

She leans up and kisses him, her hands sliding up his back as he pulls her closer to him. 

“You know,” she says after a moment, her face still so close to his, “I was talking to Naughty Nellie earlier and–”

He looks at her confused, almost forgetting their little game, “Who?”

“Erin. She got really into her character and did some research. She found some pretty interesting things that they did back then.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

She pecks his lips before abruptly turning and starts towards the bedroom, “I’d rather show you.”

He quickly follows her and as his lips meet hers again while they sink into the bed, he silently thanks Michael for the murder in Savannah.

There have been many times when he needs to remind himself that this is real. That he’s not dreaming, not imagining things. She’s really here, sleeping next to him, cooking him dinner, kissing him. That she said yes; to dinner, and then to marrying him. Some days he holds her a little closer than usual, because he can, and that’s all he had ever wanted since meeting her. 

When they found out she was pregnant, his world flipped. Of course, part of it was the normal nerves of becoming a dad and bringing a child into the world. But most of it was the fact that he had spent years hoping for this moment, for Pam to love him the way he does her and for one day creating a family together, and now it was suddenly in front of him. It may have happened quicker than planned, and out of order traditionally, but it was happening and he couldn’t wait. 

He went to every appointment, attended every class, interviewed every day care. He read books and articles, asked for and listened to advice from friends who already had a couple of kids. He wanted to be ready, not only because he had no idea what he was doing, but also because he wanted to make sure Pam didn’t feel alone in this. 

He was constantly amazed at her growing tummy. Found himself mindlessly running his hand over it as they laid in bed or watched a movie or waited in line at the grocery store. Even during the rougher patches, bad morning sickness or crazy mood swings, he was still always in awe of her. 

When it got closer to her due date, both of their nerves went up. She would ask him to triple check that the crib wouldn’t fall apart and he would insist she sit down and rest as much as possible. When she started having contractions, neither one of them felt ready. Both agreed to go to work that day, partially for the insurance deal but also for the distractions. And even though they didn’t make it to midnight, he was grateful that they had gone and that all of their coworkers were supporting them. It made the decision to finally go to the hospital much easier. 

And then, nineteen hours later, Cecelia Marie was born. He fell in love with her immediately, but what had surprised him was how much more he loved Pam right then. While nurses cleaned and checked on Cece, he kissed Pam’s head, held her hand, told her how amazing she was and is. He didn’t want to let go of her, even when the nurses offered his daughter to him. 

And then they went home and he’s pretty sure neither one of them slept for three whole days. The first week is mostly a blur to him, but then they started reaching milestones together. Cece’s first real bath, her first smile (even if it was just gas), the first time Jim was able to successfully give her a bottle. By the time she had turned a month old, he and Pam had mostly found their rhythm. 

And although he cherished these moments with Cece, what he especially loved was watching Pam figure out who she was as a new mom. Watch her quietly sing to Cece, or tell her stories, or rock her to sleep. They had expressed their concerns about becoming parents to each other a couple of times throughout the pregnancy, but now that Cece was here, Jim has no idea what they were so scared about. Pam was a natural carer, lover, mother. 

When it was time for him to go back to work, she teased him about trying to not miss Cece too much and he played along, but he wouldn’t tell her it was watching her with Cece that he’d miss even more. 

“Cece, please give your brother back his graham crackers.”

He glances over at Pam who is looking at Cece through the rearview mirror. Phillip is crying, Cece is arguing, and their SUV is filled to the brim with suitcases and boxes and snacks. They had only just crossed the Pennsylvania border into Maryland, and there hasn’t been a moment of silence since they left their driveway. He can tell Pam is stressed out, and he’s wondering if uprooting their family to Austin was actually a good idea. He’s excited for the move, and Pam insists that she is now, too, but he never wants to give her a reason to doubt him, or them, ever again. 

He knows he never would have forgiven himself if he had let her walk away. He still finds himself trying to make it up to her, even though she has told him multiple times that he’s okay; that they’re okay. The last year has been great, though. He’s had to travel occasionally for Athleap, but he’s home way more often and they’re both happier for it. Moving to Austin will mean he’s home every night, Pam will be able to get an art job, the kids will get their own rooms and even their own bathrooms. The bigger paycheck doesn’t hurt, either. Everyone will be happier, once they actually arrive in Texas. Until then, they have another twenty hours in the car together, and he’s praying they still have some sanity when they pull up to their new house. 

Pam gets a movie going and then it’s finally quiet, save for Rapunzel’s singing, but he’ll take that over the bickering any day. He reaches over and grabs Pam’s hand and she smiles up at him, interlocking her fingers with his. 

“So,” he says quietly, making sure the kids don’t hear, “are we sure this was a good idea?”

“It better be. I’m not moving again until Phil is in college. At least.”

He laughs, “Maybe we could have paid extra to have the movers drive our car while we took the truck by ourselves.”

“Do you think it’s too late to book them their own hotel room?”

“Just say the word and it’s done.”

She giggles and then looks back to see both kids asleep. “I can’t wait to see their reaction to the house.”

They had taken a little trip to Austin alone a couple of months ago to scout out neighborhoods, and ended up falling in love with a house just outside of Austin with a huge yard, a finished basement (a true rarity in Texas), a pool, and, to Pam’s delight, a small terrace outside of the master bedroom. Even though they weren’t expecting to make any offers while they were there, it was a no-brainer to call Carol and ask her to get the paperwork ready for when they got back.

And now, after months of planning, and signing, and packing, they’re only a couple of days away from starting their new life. Pam has already been telling him what she wants to do with the terrace, and he couldn’t be more grateful that she’s ready to take this next step with him. 

He brings her hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. “Thank you again for this.”

“Jim.”

“I know, I know. I just… it’s actually happening and you should know how much I appreciate you doing this.”

She squeezes his hand. “I do know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And he would make sure she knew that was true, every day.