He can’t walk into the office without knowing that things aren’t how they're supposed to be. This isn’t a new feeling. He’d had the same sensation every morning since the day Pam Beesly came to work at Dunder Mifflin. Things were not as they should be.

            The only time he’d ever felt like things were right, maybe even perfect, in this office, was one night, a long time ago, when the lights were dimmed and her hair was curled and he had finally been brave. He hadn’t even had to think about it—he had just gathered her up, because he had always known she was supposed to be in his arms. And he had kissed her, because that was the way it was meant to be.

            Some mornings he blames her. Some mornings he blames himself. Lately, he has found himself blaming Karen, as though it’s her fault that she’s not Pam. He can’t even bring himself to walk through the door with her, because that just makes everything more wrong and more painful, and so when she asks for a ride to work, he says, “I can’t.”

            She knows something’s up with him, but he knows that that’s nothing new. She should probably have known all along. Then again, so should he.