Pam sat at her desk, the phones on voicemail, staring at the picture of Dunder Mifflin Michael had brought from her at the art show. He had hung it up as a sense of pride, and she appreciated him for that but all she wanted to do was rip it down.

The urge to draw had weakened somehow, like so many other feelings in her life, she was going numb. All this build up of "Wow, Pam, you have some talent" didn't pay off the way she thought. Of course the one person that encouraged her to take it seriously didn't even bother to come see.

She glanced at the picture again. She had thrown all the others away after the show. Maybe that was a mistake, but she was upset and had simply ripped them off the wall when everyone left, and hurled them in the trash can in the back.

She wondered could she rip that one down too without Michael realizing. It was a bad reminder of so many things; a regret, an insult, a sense of inferiority, disappointment,and rejection. Yep, she got all that from an oil pencil drawing. Who cares about it anyway? It was just some lower level art class. And a stupid art show that didn't mean anything. The one she shouldn't have even been in in the first place. And to think, she was so proud at first.

She had drawn her coffee mug, the one she drinks her tea out of everyday. The one she drinks from when she's alone in the break room. She's been alone alot in that room nowadays.

The vase of flowers were from Bob Vance, Vance Refrigeration. He had gotten Phyllis the arrangement right before their wedding. The wedding that Phyllis basically carbon copied right out of Pam's planner. No wonder she was always so eager to see Pam's ideas when she was planning. After the wedding, Pam saw the cleaning lady about to throw them out. Pam asked could she take them home, Phyllis wouldn't mind (she did hijack her wedding after all). So Pam took them home and sat them on the small table in her hallway. She stared at them for a moment. They represented so much. The fact that that night at the wedding she did feel nostalgic. Or maybe she felt sad because she watched the man she wanted to be with be with someone else. And Roy was paying so much attention to her, it almost dulled the ache she felt...almost.

The stapler, she had drawn while ignoring Michael in a meeting a few days before the show. She was so distracted, wondering how everything happened so fast. Now she was back with Roy, she had gone home with him that night. In a moment of weakness, she allowed herself to fall back into the comfort that was Roy, because she knew he at least loved her, in his own way. He seemed so happy the next morning, that as she gathered her clothes together, she forced down the urge to cry long enough to give him a "Yeah...I want to try again too."

Anything was better than being alone. Right?

Now she didn't have to stare at the back of Jim's neck and wonder why he wasn't picking up all the small clues she was sure she was dropping. She wouldn't have to watch Karen touch him in ways Pam knew she wanted to. She wouldn't have to come home to a small little apartment and eat a microwaved dinner and watch Lifetime TV, if she didn't want. She had Roy again...and she had her art.

At least before the disaster that was her art show she did.

Sure at the time she sketched each picture carefully, she was proud of her work, proud that it was something manifesting from her. A sense of accomplishment that had alluded her for so many years. She had done something. She had taken a step towards her dreams.

A real life art show. Her heart had quickened when the teacher passed out the requirements. At least 5 pieces, according to the paper. She felt confident she could sketch out five drawings in no time. Sure she's have to go to the art store and get more supplies, which weren't cheap but that's a burden she had to bare. A real damn art show!

She told her mom over the phone, and yapped a million words a minute about how excited she was. Sure at the beginning of the semester she wasn't as thrilled with her art, she often compared her meager drawings to the bold and eclectic prints and paintings that other students came in with. She said nothing when critiques were given, other than

or

"No. I agree with you I should probably take Drawing I over again. I mean, it was like years ago since I took it and obviously, I don't remember a lot."

She knew she paled in comparison to many of the other students. Of course they were also younger and probably had people who encouraged their art all their lives. So of course they came in with paintings that were reminiscent of Picasso or etchings so detailed, one would believe it was a photograph. And that moment she stood inside the studio beside her wall, staring out into the other alcoves, she didn't belong. Maybe she should have just stuck to it as a hobby.

Roy showed up. He looked proud of himself that he even remembered. And he brought his brother. Pam stuttered at bit when he looked happy that only HE remembered to come to her show and no one else from work did. She felt slapped at that moment. A touch of reality that he still had no idea what to say to her after everything they went through. She watched as he scanned her pictures without really looking at them and his brother kind of shrugged as if wondering when they were going to a bar or something. Roy gave her a big grin and said something about how great it was and how cool she was. Then he started to leave.

She didn't know if it was a blessing or curse, because she was partly upset he wanted to leave after a few minutes, and partly relieved that he would leave so she wouldn't have to put up with him faking as if he cared. He asked her was she coming over in his own boorish way and she muttered something about being tired. Which wasn't a lie. She was tired, of everything.

Gil and Oscar showed up and she was happy to see them. She stepped up to say something to them when Gil basically ripped her art apart. Motel art.

Wow. And meanwhile Oscar just stood there and maybe actually agreed. She didn't know and frankly...She didn't care. She fought back tears and spun on her heels to walk off the pain. It hurt more than the other students criticizing her work. Because Oscar and Gil weren't just talking about her drawings...they were talking about her. She looked at her watch after a while. Her eyes scanned the dimishing crowd for a lanky figure. There were none. Her heart dropped when she realized the one person she wanted to show up, regardless of all the tension, of all the awkwardness, the one person who pushed for her to do this in the first place, didn't show.

She didn't want to do this anymore. She wasn't going to try anymore. That night basically showed her that her existence was wrapped up in the basics, Roy and Dunder Mifflin. She wasn't fit to be an artist. She wasn't fit to be daring. She wasn't fit to be with Jim.

And now here she was, sitting back at her desk at Dunder Mifflin, her "career". She stared at the picture again. Michael told her he was proud. He wanted her picture. And as much of an asshole as he could be, he was the best thing she got that night. She got a bit of hope back. Her eyes shifted to the back of Jim's neck, out of habit. She sighed and realized she had to stop looking for something to happen. She had to make it happen, or she'd be stuck in this awful mundane existence where she almost gave up her passion and just lived the life handed to her.

No, she was going to prove Oscar and Gil wrong. She was going listen to Michael (Whoa...where the hell did that come from?). She was going to stop clinging to her past because she was scared to confront her future.  She watched as Karen came to Jim's desk and giggled at somthing he said. Pam's eyes narrowed. If that damn art show taught her anything, it taught her rejection comes in many forms. And sometimes, one man's motel art....is another man's treasure.

Or whatever.

She wanted her treasure back.

***There's a few more chapters I will write exploring this if you like it.***