"So, in ten years, what are we doing?"

Pam looks over at him, his face masked by the shadows of his dark bedroom."That's random."

"Yeah." Jim turns over to her, sitting up, propping his elbow on the pillow. "Seriously though."

Pam turns to face him, grabbing his hand into hers, wondering where this is coming from. "I don't know. That's a long time from now."

"But you've thought about it, right?"

"Not really." She admits.

He sighs and she feels his hand move from hers as he lays back down, staring at the ceiling. He squints his eyes and tries to count the squares and stops at 18 before he speaks. "Remember when Phyllis accidentally called me Michael?"

"Yeah," Pam says softly. She moves to him, laying on his chest, and wraps an arm around his waist. "That was weird."

"Yep."

Pam moves her head and kisses his neck. "You're not Michael. You know that, right?"

"I could be."

"But you don't have to be."

His hand is playing with her hair and he wonders if this is how he saw his life ten years ago.  He always thought he'd have an exciting, well-paid job, and be married with three kids, and have the big house with the white picket fence by now. It's strange how things work out-- or how they don't.

"You."

"Hmm?"

Pam lifts her head and touches his face. "You. That's all I need in ten years. I don't care what we're doing or where we're at or anything. I just want you and for both of us to be happy."

She kisses him. "And if you're anything like Michael in ten years, I may just murder you. So.. make sure that doesn't happen."

Jim laughs and wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. "Yeah. I'll try."