Pam nervously played with her hair as she stood in the doorway to her kitchen blankly watching her landlord as he worked to fix her kitchen light.  She turned suddenly when she heard the bathroom door open and watched as Jim made his way down the hallway and into the living room. 

He had on a pair of loose fitting blue jeans and a dark blue hooded sweatshirt that looked like it might have been washed a thousand times or more.  She’d never seen him wear a hoodie before and thought that she liked the way it looked on him.  His hair was a little messier than it was on workdays and she wondered to herself if he actually took the time to style it during the week.  The thought made her smile.

            “Whatcha thinking about Beesly?” Jim asked with a smile to match hers.

            “Oh, nothing,” she paused for a second, debating if she should really tell him or not, “well, actually, I was just wondering if you do anything extra to your hair when you go to work or if it just goes that way naturally.”

            “My hair?” Jim asked, bringing a hand to the back of his head, “Why Beesly, do you honestly think it could look like this on it’s own?”

            Pam smiled.

            “Look at this hair, Beesly.  Seriously, look at it,” he bent forward, displaying his head of hair for her, “this takes work, notice the shine, that doesn’t just happen by itself!  It takes work!  It takes conditioner!”

            “It’s very nice, Jim.” Pam said, still smiling.

            “Touch it, go ahead, feel it, its silky smooth … like silk.” Jim said with a laugh as he shook his head in front of her, “Go ahead, feel it.”

            “Silky smooth like silk?  That’s ok.” she said, then added quietly, “I remember.”

            Jim stopped shaking his head.  Did he hear her right?  She remembers?

            Pam swallowed hard, trying to quickly think of something else to say, hoping he didn’t hear her last thought.

            Jim straightened up and stood facing her, his eyes searching her face for something, anything that might tell him what is going on inside her head.  “What do you me….”

            “Alright Pam, she’s all fixed,” the landlord interrupted as he walked out of the kitchen and toward the door, the folded up ladder under his arm.

            Pam spun around quickly; “Thanks!” she said a little too loudly, “I really appreciate you coming over here, Matt.”

            “No problem Pam, you two have a good night now.” He said as he closed the door behind him.

            Pam clasped her hands together in front of her and turned around to face Jim, “Ready to go?” she asked cheerily, trying to hide the awkwardness she felt inside.

            Jim paused a second before nodding his head slowly, “Yup, lead on Beesly, I’m ready to pick out some paint.”

            Pam let out a sigh of relief when Jim didn’t press her on her comment and walked to the door, slipping her shoes on and grabbing her purse.  Jim followed suit and a few minutes later they were back in his car. 

            No one spoke as Jim made his way back out to the highway and after a few moments, Jim turned the radio to the local oldies station and they rode rest of the way in heavy silence, both pretending to listen to the music.  Jim’s house was about eight miles away from Pam’s, and though it seemed like forever, the drive only took about ten minutes.

            Pam hadn’t yet been to Jim’s new house, and was excited to see it as they walked up the sidewalk to the front door.  Jim pulled out his keys and quickly unlocked the door, stepping aside to let Pam enter first.