Pam jiggled her tightly crossed legs under the desk and bit her lip, her unusual jitteriness lacking an outlet.  It was maddening, this juxtaposition of having too much energy and nowhere to put it.

The phone had rung exactly once since she sat down this morning. Her desk is now as neat as a pin. There were no spot fires to put out because Michael was actually working. Stuck in “Cell block lockdown.” as he called it, with an all day corporate conference call. Now and then he looked up and mouthed “help me”  through his office window, which Pam doggedly ignored. So the office was unusually quiet with everyone working towards the hope of an end of month bonus. Nothing new. Except for the New Guy.  

She’d tidied her top drawer, made a cup of tea which she didn’t want or drink, played 2 games of solitaire and shredded 3 documents a page at a time. She’d tried sketching, but couldn’t focus long enough. 

Sighing again, Pam spun in her chair and marched with feigned indifference to the copier, feeling awkward in the 9 steps it took to get there, finally raising the flap and slapping the latest sales figures report face down, all fingers and thumbs. As usual, the miserable machine refused to cooperate, creaking and groaning in protest towards producing a single smeared copy. Pam thumped the cheap plastic cover in disgust but it did little to disperse the strange buzzing inside her that wouldn’t budge. A now familiar snort of amusement emanating from the center of the room didn’t help. 

She blushed again for what seemed the millionth time and jerked the lapels of her favorite wooly pink cardigan together, fighting the urge to turn and look over her shoulder. She knew his eyes were on her. On closer reflection, they hadn’t left her all day. This time, she could actually feel his smirk. 

No, I won’t look at him again. I can’t. This is nuts 

Throughout the morning, she’d peeped over the lip of the desk and it was like he was waiting. Quickly turning from his spreadsheet and grinning at her as she ducked her head back down in embarrassment. But then Kevin or Meredith would say something ridiculous or shocking and they’d instantly look at each other in mutual amusement or exaggerated horror. 

The harder she tried, the more difficult it became. Like a silly little moth to the flame, she’d found herself surrendering again and again to the urge of fleeting, discrete glances, resting on a discombobulation of features. The smooth skin on the back of his neck, the sharp line of his jaw, the leather strap of his watch wrapped around a tanned wrist, a long leg stretched out from the side of his desk, and a pencil tapped in concentration against his upper lip. Now attuned to the timbre of his voice, she delighted in his easy, polite banter and calm assertiveness as he quickly got to know his office inmates while deftly navigating first day speed bumps.  

He had no qualms in being caught looking at her. He did it easily and openly and without her self consciousness, deliberately seeking her reaction or to share in a moment of delighted distraction. At times, when he thought she didn't notice, he watched her carefully, a slight twinkle turning up the corners of his mouth.

Puzzled but thrilled, she could feel his interest. While he was a friendly guy, he had definitely singled her out. Not in a Todd Packer leery kind of way. It was like he also found her the most fascinating person in the room. Quiet, mousy little Pam who could honestly say picking up Michael’s jeans from the dry-cleaners and organizing the supply closet was the most exciting part of her day. So invisible at times, Hank the security guy once turned off the lights and locked her in because he didn't notice her sitting behind her desk working late. 

Twice now, their gazes had synchronized, eyes locked for a blink in time, her breath catching as an unspoken recognition hovered between them. He broke these moment with the beginning of a slow and devastating smile as she wrenched her eyes away and looked for something, anything, to distract herself and regain her equilibrium. She found herself doing stupid things, like going to the break room and forgetting why or spending an inordinate amount of time adjusting her skirt and smoothing her hair back behind her ears before standing up and going to the ladies room because ....why? She wanted to look nice going to the bathroom?

Argh! 

Pam groaned and shook off her reverie, glancing around the room at everyone but HIM, to check if this was noticed before wrestling with the jammed and now chewed up second copy, this time kicking the side of the copier in frustration. Dwight looked up from his monitor and suddenly frowned at her odd behavior.    

“Pamela. May I offer assistance with the copy machine? It requires superior knowledge and dexterous handling of its particular mechanical foibles to operate.”  

Pam registers a muffled snort of laughter punctuated by a pen being dropped, then a swivel chair creaking as it's pushed back. She honestly can’t resist. It's like she was born for this role. 

“Um, thanks Dwight. I’m not sure. I think it’s possessed. Do you know how to perform an exorcism?” This time there is a distinct chortle. Her lips twitch in traitorous response. 

“A Xerox machine is an inanimate object without a soul and therefore cannot be possessed. I believed you to be an educated female but you have just proved me wrong.” 

“Hang on Dwight. Didn’t you know? Beesly has a BA majoring in Wicca." 

Pam felt yet another secret thrill at hearing her newly bestowed nickname. For her  entire life her one nickname had always been “Pammy”. Which she hated. 

Dwight’s eyebrows disappeared towards his receding hairline as his right eye spasmed with a rapidly building hatred for his new desk mate. He actually snarled. 

“Unlikely, Beta. I suggest you focus on observing how it's done by the alpha around here. Besides, you only met our receptionist  this morning and haven’t had time to exchange more than benign pleasantries.” 

He was right. It was strange, she’d barely spoken to him since he arrived but from the moment he entered the room, so calm and affable, she felt she knew him. 

“Yikes. There's an alpha in the room? Who would that be?” 

“I believe it is obvious the alpha in question is me. Imbecile.”

 “Wow. Nice.” 

Dwight imperiously inclines his head away from the newly perceived threat to the office pecking order, focusing his daggers elsewhere, not noticing his stapler being stealthily pocketed.

“MISS Beesly, unless you have a more sensible request not involving pagan rituals, I will now focus my attention on closing my tenth sale today - and counting.” Summarily dismissed, walking back to the circulation desk seemed to take an eon, as she was highly aware of 'The Threat' leaning back in his chair, trying to catch her eye while a hand rubbed the place where hairline meets neck in what she now recognised as bemusement. She sits with a heavy thump and throws the forgotten, useless second sales report copy in the trash, stubbornly refusing to succumb.   

One more interminable hour until lunch. Even lunch was boring these days. That was it.

She was just - bored. It was just another boring day at Dunder Mifflin…wasn’t it?

Oh who was she kidding ? She wasn’t bored. She was….bothered.

Bother, bother bother! What is WRONG with me? 

“Um, so don’t get me wrong, present company excluded of course, is it just me,

or is this place full of weirdos?” 

 Pam’s heart promptly skips a beat. That was something else that had started happening this morning. Her heart skipping, jumping or stopping. She can resist no more. Momentarily admiring two large, beautifully shaped hands casually draped over the polished countertop, Pam finally allows herself to look up and into his laughing eyes. He is so close it's like the desk between them has disappeared. She can now see they aren’t actually brown, they're a combination of gray with a tinge of hazel. Her breath hitching again, she practically whispers “It's just you.”

For a moment they both say nothing and just smile until he breaks their magnetic eye contact by nonchalantly slouching and leaning on one arm on the divider while rummaging through her jelly bean stash. Was it only 4 hours ago she met him?

It was supposed to be an average, very dull Dunder Mifflin day, nothing special. But then HE arrived this morning and smiled down at her and the world sort of tilted on its axis. It was like someone finally turned on the lights and music at the party and the world was now lit up in all its brilliance.  

****

“Hi, I’m Jim Halpert, the new guy.”

“Oh!  Hi, I’m Pam Beesly. The secretary.” 

“Hi. Nice to meet you.” She's mesmerized by his smile. It’s the best smile she’s ever seen.

“Nice to meet you too. Welcome to the madhouse.”

He’s tall. So tall she has to tilt her head right back to see all of him. Shoulders broad. An oversized shirt disguises a long and lean body.  

“Wow. Madhouse? But you seem normal.” 

A deep, almost rumbling voice, but friendly and approachable as he chuckles slightly to put her instantly at ease and chuckling too. 

“There is no normal here.”

“Great, I like challenges.” 

She can tell he’s serious. But this is a guy who doesn't preen or take himself too seriously.

“Well, I think I’ll let you enjoy your blissful ignorance for just a few more moments.”

His shiny hair is a little long and unkempt. It curls over his ears. It suits him.

“Oh yeah?” 

Lovely, expressive but kind eyes. He’s genuinely amused and interested in what she has

to say. She feels her energy rise and sing. 

“Why's that Beesly? Should I be worried and call my mom?”He calls her 'Beesly'. She likes it. And she likes him straight away. He's fun. He's funny. It's so easy. 

“Well, brace for impact because you can never go back to this moment before you meet your desk mate, Dwight.”

 ****

“So…..according to the company rule book which I have of course read cover to cover, my designated lunch 

break is in one hour.”  He's now looking a tad nervous and Pam instantly becomes nervous too. “How about you?” 

He’s asking to spend lunch with me. Oh! 

It's flattering. Nobody ever seeks her out like this. Especially someone like Jim. 

Of course, he’s new to Scranton and needs a work buddy. I can show him how to use the left side of the toaster  oven because the right burns everything, and not to use dimes in the vending machine, and how the coffee machine works. We can eat together and I can ask him about where he grew up and …well lots of things. 

“I was thinking you could tell me all the goss about my coworkers. Maybe help me do a few background checks?” 

We're already friends.  She likes the idea so much that she finds herself nodding. 

“Um, sure.” 

Jim's face lights up. “Awesome. Prepare for lunch to kick your ass. See you soon, Bees.” 

With a slight tap on the top of the counter, and one last grin, Jim turns and saunters away looking happy and satisfied. 

Roy won’t mind. He'll probably work through lunch so he can leave early for Poor Richards, anyway -  It was then that Pam realizes with a start that she hasn’t thought of her fiancé once all morning, until now. 

Jim is now smiling at his screen, madly typing something. He is looking so pleased with himself and is sitting differently, like he is floating a few centimeters above his chair. The familiar sound of the IM ping rudely demands her attention. With fumbling hands over the mouse Pam clicks on her newest message:  

Tick one:  

• The Olive Garden 

• Schrute's Beet Farm 

• Cugino’s 

Oh. 

Pam peeks over the protection of the counter top for the 100th time today. Jim is of course waiting, but this time he doesn't look away. His face has transformed from boyishly fun and funny to.... an adoring man. An entirely different look from all previous examples, it roves leisurely over the lines and the flow of her face and hair, flicks down briefly to her lips before returning to gaze into her eyes with open admiration. With a long forgotten flutter deep down in her feminine heart, Pam can see absolutely everything he is thinking written across on his handsome - yes she'll finally admit that -  his handsome face, in ten foot letters. 

I like really you. 

I want to know you.  

I think you're so pretty.  

I can't wait for our first date.

I want to kiss you.

No one has ever looked at her like that , no one ever will again. So for just a self indulgent second, before she allows a horrible sinking feeling of guilt and shame and confusion to seep in, Pam bathes in his shining beauty and honesty. The phone mercifully intervenes and she  drags her eyes away and eagerly snatches the receiver up.

"Dunder Mifflin this is Pam." 

"Hey Pammy, I have to cancel lunch. Me and the boys - "  A cold sweat breaks out across her brow.

" - going to Poor Richards. You're okay by yourself. Oh by the way - "   

What do I do?  

" -  I thought I'd go fishing with Kenny this weekend. You can stay home and do some art stuff...."  

Jim is relaxing in his chair, one hand propping up his chin. A finger tapping restlessly on the space bar of his keyboard and a surreptitious check of the clock on the wall is the only indication of what he is thinking.

“ -  so I’ll sleep over. Everything is good huh? You're the best babe. Love ya. Be good - haha!” 

The phone is now droning because Roy has hung up. Pam looks down at the ring on her finger. The band is dull and thinning badly and the stone has spun around, hidden from view. She can't remember the day she put it on.

Drawing in a deep breath and willing away the ache in her throat, she forces herself to read Jim's message again. How can she possibly reply?  

• I like you too

• I want to  

• I ....can't

• 
  

All at once, the ache feels unbearable and she wants to cry.

Oh Pammy. Now look at what you've done.

Jim  slumped into his car seat, slammed the door and wearily rested his head against the window with a groan, resisting the urge to swear. Sighing, he closed eyes for a moment, enjoying the quietness of his solitude. What. A. Day. Who would have thought working in an office could be….such a strange combination of boring and tumultuous? His head  was simultaneously spinning AND about to implode. He desperately needed a beer and then bed, but he suspected another night of sleep would be eluding him. This odd feeling of discombobulation was already beginning to haunt him. Jim sighed again. Just a few more minutes and then he’d find the motivation for the drive home. The abrupt ringtone of his cell phone makes him jump. 

“Hey Mom.”

“Hi darling. Are you home yet?” 

“Nah, just sitting in my car trying to find the energy to drive.” 

“Oh dear. Second day didn't go well?”   

“I'm just a bit tired.”

It was way more than that, but like all good sons wanting to be independent and not worry their mom, he also knew he wasn't ready to dump on her for a while yet. Besides, he could barely articulate it to himself. 

“I would have called yesterday, but I lost track of the time getting Marissa settled at college. ” 

“That’s ok, I understand. We all know Marrisa is the favorite.” 

“And don’t you forget it.” 

He can hear the smile in her voice. 

“Seriously now sweetheart, how did you get on? Did you meet your boss today?”  

“Um, yeah.” Boy did he ever. He’d been duly warned, but nothing prepared him for Michael Scott performing full throttle. Once the man was 'released from the torturous penitential institution of all day corporate conference calls’ he bounced around the office like a kid on Christmas morning. While Jim wasn’t blind and could see his new boss actually had a kind heart, he was also downright bizarre. 

“Michael? He’s err….friendly.” 

“Well that's nice. Do you think you’ll get along with him?” 

Much to his desk buddy's (and fast becoming nemesis) chagrin, the boss in question had unfortunately taken an instant shine to him, naming him  'Jumbo Jimbo’ and ‘My Bestest Buddy Boy’. Hovering over Jim’s shoulder all day, bragging about his foolproof sales strategies and even performing a disastrous magic trick, ending with him inhaling and then dramatically choking on the decoy coin hidden in his mouth, Dwight heroically leaping over his desk to execute the Heimlich Maneuver. The office was in an instant uproar, Kelly hyperventilating while screeching for an ambulance with Meredith rocking in her chair, laughing maniacally at the freakish tableau of Michael bent over a chair, arms flailing as Dwight furiously thumped his back. 

At midday, after the dust had finally settled, Michael sheepishly reappeared at Jim's desk yet again and declared he was taking him ‘on the company’s dime’ to the ultimate place for a man to man power lunch, guaranteeing it would be a ‘hoot’, complete with suggestive actions. Jim remembers his face flushing as he quietly declined, making up an excuse he had a dental appointment, while catching a certain receptionist's eye, desperately hoping the look on his face conveyed that he did not approve or care for Michael’s inappropriate behavior and the restaurant in question. The sympathetic smile she returned made the moment and eating his ham and cheese sandwich in the driver's seat at a local Walmart around the corner almost worthwhile. 

“Yeah well, he’s unique, I’ll say that.” 

“And what about your coworkers?” 

His coworkers. What can he possibly say that won’t freak her out? He’s never met a more eclectic or disturbing bunch of people. His workplace was fast becoming something out of a badly written and produced sitcom. Or a reality show. Maybe he was being pranked? Tomorrow the camera crew will jump out and shout ‘Surprise! You're on ‘Candid Camera’

After what he’d seen and been through today, he was seriously considering it. 

“ Errr…. ” he chuckles to cover his very real befuddlement. Where do I start… ? 

“Hi big boy. Wanna sip? Feel free to look anywhere but my bottom drawer.” 

“I once had a dog called Jim. Saved my life in ‘Nam tripping a landline.”   

“Oh my god. Like, I love your hair. It's SO ‘Ashton Kutcher’. Don't you just love him with an older woman? I mean Demi Moore has had work, but you totally can’t tell, and she’s so hot, so he isn’t losing out. She’s so lucky. Do you use ‘Just for Men’? More men should get makeovers… oh there’s my lipstick! I've been looking for that. It's called Berry Blush Crush. Isn’t it the cutest? I have the biggest crush on Ricky Martin. Like Cosmo had a quiz today…” 

“Don't ask me anything. I’m here only until I get retrenched or retire. I do not care.”

“Those aren’t Sweet'nLows dear. The doctor keeps trying me on different dosages. But knitting oven mitts helps.” 

 “Her breeding name is Victoria Kensington The Third, but she prefers Sprinkles. We go to church together. You look like you should come.” 

“Here’s the form I told you about. Do you think my wife is having an affair? Never mind. Sign here.” 

“It's almost Cookie Season. I'm so excited. My favorite is Peanut Butter Patties. Hey, do you smell that? I think it's my computer again.” 

“Fact. A black bear's claws can grow as long as a whiteboard eraser. This is what I’ll expertly wield to make you suffer in the extreme if you do not return my stapler, Padawan. No the claws - not the eraser you idiot. MICHAEL!  He’s looking at me again!” 

“My coworkers? They’re….interesting.” 

“Interesting…in what way?”

“ Well, you know that weird stop motion Christmas special when Rudolf goes to the Island of Misfit Toys…?” By now mom is chuckling and he also starts to see the funny side a bit, “ - yeah well they’re a bit like that. The Dunder Misfit Paper Company." All except one. One lovely coworker on the island is incredibly right. 

“Oh no. And the actual work?”

“It’s work. Selling paper. Enough to get me started.” 

“A year or two and you’re on to bigger and better right?” 

“That’s the plan.” 

Jim is too late in catching himself and a slight whimper escapes. 

“Honey? Come on. You don’t sound, well - you. What's wrong?” 

Jim flicks his eyes up and through his dirty windscreen towards the building entrance. His heart simultaneously leaps and sinks. Pam. She’s standing still in the foyer with her back to him, hands jammed in the pockets of her coat, purse slung over one shoulder, the last watery rays of the late afternoon sunshine beaming through the glass doors making her golden curls shine. It's a very mundane, everyday picture, but to Jim it couldn't be more beautiful. Funny, clever and oh so pretty Pam Beesly. Completely and unutterably, unattainable. 

**********

“So, I’ve heard this place is the best Italian in town. The only thing I like more than Italian food is selling paper.” 

He's talking way too much. Joking too much. But he can't help it. His energy is soaring and the world around him is slighting out of focus. He can't see anything but her. Pam grins up at him, the tip of her tongue cheekily poking between the cutest little gap between her teeth, but he can see she’s trying to cover her shyness and he registers another pang of what can only be described as affection. How can he feel so much for this girl so soon? Who is she? How did this happen? 

“Oh, I like Italian too. It’s even better than reminding Michael to reapply his tinea cream and being lectured by Dwight about the benefits of goat manure when growing beets.” 

He laughs again, enraptured. This is why he likes her. She’s such a conundrum of sweetness and unexpected sass. It's infectious and he wants more, more, more. They are walking towards his car and Jim momentarily runs through an inventory of the state of his vehicle, panicking a bit that he’s left it messy or put something embarrassing on the passenger seat. It's not like he was expecting to meet the most appealing receptionist on the planet and take her lunch today. Did he throw those fast food wrappers in the trash last night? Is his smelly gym bag on the backseat or in the trunk? After opening the door and dusting off some seat crumbs for her as his dad told him a gentleman should, he hurries around to the drivers side, already missing their banter. 

A quiet descends when they are both settled with seatbelts on and in the moments before driving off. He glances over at his passenger and notices she is thinking hard, staring at the dashboard without seeing it. He takes the moment to admire her delicate profile outlined by the brilliant blue backdrop of the sky through the window. Her unexpected stillness is yet another layer. She can be so contrary and Jim finds this incredibly attractive. But then, everything about Pam is. He's about to start the ignition and reverse out, when she suddenly looks up and the smile that blazes across her face almost takes his breath away.

 “Hey. Thanks for this. I feel….like we're friends already.”  

 He can’t look away or take a single breath in or out. So he swallows and manages to utter, “Me too.” 

“I…. like, I know this because I knew I could say that and not worry you’ll spaz out and think I’m going to be one of those coworkers who expect you to be a bestie and start making alliances like on Survivor.” 

 “Ah damn. So this means I need to ditch the tiki torches in my trunk?”  

She smiles again, but he senses something is still on her mind. 

 “So, this may sound weird, but when we get to the restaurant there’s some stuff I’d like to tell you. As my friend. But can we, like, wait until maybe dessert?” 

“Sure.”

He is, of course, curious but he knows enough about her already not to push it. Whatever it is, he can deal. Because this is Pam Beesly. He claps his hands together and rubs them with exaggerated anticipation.  “Ok Beesly. Pasta and tiramisu here we come.” 

As he carelessly rests his arm over the back of the passenger seat, Pam turns her face up and into the curve of his arm, and he's suddenly aware her close proximity in the limited space. He is mesmerized as her eyes widen as she takes a short, shallow breath. If anyone walked by and saw them like this they could interpret it as an intimate interlude. Before he can think what to say or do, Pam breaks the tension by turning away to look out the window and the moment is over. It's then that he knows that she feels it too. Right then and there, he decides to just hang on and enjoy the ride, because they’ll never have these first moments again. 

“Hey Beesly?” As expected she turns back to him and looks at him expectantly. 

“I also have a deep dark secret you need to know.” He grins for effect and of course she takes the bait. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“I'll tell you right now if you like?” 

“Dwight is really your biological father.” 

“Oh my god? How did you know?” 

And just like that, they're back to bantering. 

**********

“ Honey?” Jim jerks himself back to his mother’s attention. “Are you still there?” 

“Yeah mom. I'm fine, just really beat.”  He can’t tell her yet. First of all, it would sound ludicrous saying 'Well as a matter of fact mom, I met the most amazing girl. She’s perfect and I think I’m in love. Like really, really in love, even though I‘ve known her for less than 48 hours. Wild huh? The only catch is, she’s engaged and I still have to work in the same room with her while her fiancé is in the warehouse downstairs.’ Second of all, he can hardly believe it himself. Falling this hard and this fast. And casually referencing the L word as if he was talking about the weather. 

Love. He’d never actually been anywhere near in love. He thought he was in love with Emma Henderson in senior year, but it turned out they just liked each other a whole lot and even more what they did to each other on her rumpus room sofa when her parents were working late. At college he’d never exactly been lonely for female companionship. By then, he’d outgrown his residual high school awkwardness and discovered he had a natural charm that made meeting women easy and fun with enjoyable results. Then he’d gotten pretty serious with Jenny Brinkoff. She was sexy and smart but she was a year ahead and broke it off before she moved interstate.That hit him hard but he moved on relatively quickly. A few empty one night stands told him he wasn't cut out for casual hook ups. It was a one dimensional exchange and left him feeling vaguely empty. So while there were girlfriends who left him flopping around gasping for breath in their wake, Pam was incomparable. All he knew was that her dual enigma of smarts and innocent allure intrigued, delighted and excited him. 

“Don't be too hard on yourself. Things will settle down soon. Get some rest okay?” 

“Thanks Mom." 

“Love you. Call me soon huh?”

“I will. Love you too.” 

Pam is now pacing back and forth in the lobby, obviously waiting for Roy so they can leave together. Roy. He now knows all about Roy. Just saying and hearing that name physically hurt. Every single time. Like biting down on a decayed tooth. The lucky guy in question finally appears, talking loudly on his cell phone and striding right past Pam without acknowledging her as she trails behind. Next to the guy's bulky build and height difference she looks tiny. Jim frowns as Roy roughly yanks the heavy glass door open and walks straight through without checking it won’t swing back on her. If Pam didn't put a hand out it would have knocked her in the face or off her feet.

After struggling to pull on the door to let herself through, she jogs to catch up to Roy, who now is sitting in their truck still talking on the phone. She yanks down hard on the handle of the passenger side door. It's stuck or locked, so after several tries, she knocks on the window to get his attention. Roy has turned away, rummaging around looking for or placing something on the backseat and he doesn't notice. Even from where he is sitting, Jim can see her frustration. Anger boils in his gut. Roy is an OAF.

Pam suddenly looks up and across the parking lot and spots him. He casually waves and tries to look busy, fiddling with his car keys and adjusting the seat as if he didn't just see the entire sad scenario playing in front of him because he senses her embarrassment. That's when he feels a belated sense of shame. 

Who the hell do I think I am? Roy might not deserve her but that doesn't mean I do, even if she was single and knew I feel like this. She might be a bit attracted to me because we click so well but she’s in a committed relationship. Christ, I’m no better than he is. Roy finally notices Pam is locked out and he pops the door open with a glib ‘Sorry babe’ not even bothering to muffle his amusement. 

If I really cared for her, I’d also care about what she wants and feels and stop being so goddamn infatuated. She’s her own person. I've only known her for two days. Grow up Halpert.

The truck roars to life. Instead of reversing, Roy swings the heavy vehicle in a wide U turn, closely passing Jim's car with a squeal of tires, the radio blaring. In an uncanny echo of his own end of day experience, Pam is resting her head against the window looking tired. Her gaze widens and catches him in this blink of a moment, her expression startlingly clear. It punches him in the gut, because this time he sees sadness. Then she’s gone. 

With this thought, Jim takes a deep breath and finally starts his own car to make his way home. 

Just be there. Be patient.

Let her work it out. 

The street lights blink to life.

Whatever happens, happens at the right time, for the right reasons.

He's now feeling a sense of purpose.

I can be her friend.