Jim took out another notebook paper. He already had several crumpled sheets around him. He talked as he wrote, “Dear Pam, Merry Christmas. They say that--“ He crumpled that one up, too. He muttered, “So lame.”

He stood up from his desk and flipped onto his bed. Staring at the ceiling, he remembered when he was looking up at it when Pam was in his room. He closed his eyes. After a couple of moments, he opened them again. He knew what he was going to write. He hopped out of bed and wiped away all the paper wads.