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Story Notes:

Nothing too interesting, just a little mood piece (yet again).  I'm kind of imaging that it's a companion piece to "If I fall from New York city" in that it's stylistically similar, but it's about Pam this time.  Consider it my contribution to the post-premiere fic. Spoilers: Fun Run.  Disclaimer: Not mine.

Yes, it’s like this.

It’s stretched out long and lean and smooth like a floorboard, solid beneath her and not only giving her something to stand on, but also giving her something that lifts her up and let’s her see things from a different perspective. It’s solid and she can trust it like she trusts her new self.

Yes, it’s like this.

It’s a rapid flutter of her invisible wings, soft tremors and euphoric commotion that makes her cheeks hurt because she can’t get them to loosen their hold on her mouth. She can’t keep herself from this raised eyebrow smile that presses against her state of mind until it’s all that she is. It’s consuming and she allows it to embrace her.

Yes, it’s like this.

It’s deep and swaying and pulsing in the rhythm of her hips, moving her to walk like the hum of the air conditioner and the ringing of the telephones are a samba beat meant to be her accompaniment. The feel of his eyes on her as she travels from desk to desk makes her think she is Carmen or Cleopatra. It’s rich in reds and blacks and chocolate browns and she finger paints it on the canvas of her soul.

Yes, it’s like this.

It’s somehow older than she is, giving her the distinct impression that she is simply finding a place in a story that has already been written, where she is a woman and he is a man. Like the heroine of something classically epic, she finds herself thinking of him and knowing that in this she has found her home. It’s welcoming and warm in its foreign familiarity and she remembers it like she’s lived it a thousand times before.

Yes, it‘s like this.

It’s her warmth and his honesty, and the congealing of things that she had once whispered in her sleep and things that he had once whispered in her ear. It’s confessions forgotten and confessions revealed and it is the entwining of two arms, hands pressed together palm to palm so that life lines mesh and combine until one is the other. It is real and it is good.

Yes.

Loving Jim is just like this.

Chapter End Notes:

Thanks for reading!!!



Stablergirl is the author of 30 other stories.
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