He can't believe he hadn't noticed it till now; the purple toothbrush standing alone in the teal, ceramic holder as he uses his.  He's still in the middle of brushing when he picks up it up to look at it, amazed that finding these little pieces of her almost two months later can still reduce him to a sentimental mess.
 
He makes sure to get to work early that Monday, wanting to return it to her without creating an awkward scene with everyone else around.  He decides to be bold and sit at her desk, hoping to make her laugh at the image when she walks in the door.  Sure enough as soon as she steps in, she shakes her head and smiles.
 
"Finally got that promotion?"

"How come you never told me you have an entire control panel back here?  It's like a Star Trek episode.  I had no idea you had so much power.”
 
She hangs up her coat and tries to mimic him as she leans against the desk.  But she's so small that it comes up to just to her torso so she doesn't have to lean over at all.  He's pretty sure he's never seen anything so cute in his life.
 
"So what are you doing here so early?  Besides stealing my job," she asks, taking one of her own jellybeans.
 
He retrieves the toothbrush from his bag, holding it up triumphantly.
 
"Now, I'm not sure what to make of this.  Because if it's been at my place this whole time, I'm a little concerned about your oral hygiene."
 
"I bought a new one, jerk," she teases, snatching the toothbrush from him.  "Thanks for finding it though.  I can't believe I missed it when I was--"
 
Silence settles around them now, as they both relive that awful day, full of boxes and tears and palpable tension that resonated throughout each other's homes.
 
"Well, anyway, thanks.  Hope it wasn't taking up too much space," she offers with a smile.
 
"Not at all.  See?  You were practically moved in, after all."  As he's saying the words he knows it's a mistake, and the expression on her face confirms it.
 
"Yeah, you're right.  Toothbrush, my entire home, totally the same thing."  He can hear the bitterness in her voice, but he can feel something inside snap and instead of backing down, he continues.
 
"Not like you were at my place every single night, anyway.  I can see where the transition would have been really difficult."
 
"I'm not getting into this, again.  I just can't--"
 
"You never got into it, never wanted to talk about it.  That's why we're here and not--"
 
Dwight comes in then, stopping short at the sight of them.  
 
"That's not your desk," he accuses.  Jim rolls his eyes, snatching his bag as he storms over to his desk to bury his face in his hands.  He tries to catch Pam's eye the rest of the day but she remains expressionless, focused only on her computer and barely making eye contact with anyone else in the office.  At the end of the day, he lingers as he puts on his coat, hoping his nearby presence will at least get her to look at him.  When she still doesn't look up, he finally breaks the nine-hour silence.
 
"Have a good night, Pam."
 
She looks at him with tired eyes, not even trying to attempt a smile.  "You too, Jim."
 
It's void of emotion or feeling, and all the hope he'd been storing up until that point vanishes.  He collapses on top of his bed as soon as he gets home, ignoring the bad taste settling in his mouth as he succumbs to exhaustion.