Five o'clock came and went while the snow kept coming and coming. Rather than catch up on any work, everyone mentally punched out of the office even though they were still physically in it. While Pam honed her spider solitaire craft, Jim read over Andy's shoulder and snickered at the sonnets he was writing. Dwight had not come out of the conference room, but he occasionally peeked through the blinds. Kevin and Oscar were playing Hate Ball while Angela read her Bible, only stopping to give withering glances to her fellow number crunchers. Phyllis shopped online, Stanley did crosswords, and everyone was sure that Michael was probably hiding under his desk. If the moment were a breakfast cereal, it would have been advertised as NOW WITH TWO SCOOPS OF MONOTONY.

Pam had been checking the news website regularly, hoping that just once when she visited the page it would say in big, bold letters STORM OVER, PLOWS IN ACTION. As it turned out, the opposite was true. The snow was still coming down and Dwight had indeed been correct about the snow plows being spread thin. She was beginning to think that what Michael said may be true - she was going to die in that office. She'd never been struck by a more depressing thought.

She looked up from her computer to find that most of the employees were now milling around the sales desks, shuffling their feet and looking terribly bored.

"I am starving," Kevin complained.

The statement was met with rumbling stomachs and statements of agreement.

Andy sidled over to Angela. "You know, I visited my mother this weekend and she gave me some totally delicious stuff to take home, which I happen to have in the ol' break room fridge, so if you -"

"Thinking about the amount of bacteria that multiplied in the food on your drive back to Scranton repulses me," Angela snapped. "I do not want to eat your mother's contaminated meal."

As she strode back to her desk, Andy called out after her, "Then you can have my Snack Pack!"

Jim rolled his eyes and walked over to Pam before Andy could corner him and ask for advice... or, worse, ask him to proofread his poetry.

"So, idea," Jim said. "Hungry?"

Pam nodded, so he continued. "Okay. All you have to do is meet me on the roof, I'll take care of the rest."

"Um, I'd prefer not to freeze to death, actually," Pam replied.

"Well, let me put it this way: would you rather die on the roof with me or in the office with Michael?"

Pam considered this. If she listened closely enough, she could hear Michael crying in his office. "I'll get my coat."

Pam stepped carefully through the snow that had accumulated on the roof and stopped a few feet from the edge. She wrapped her coat more tightly around herself and tried to forget how possibly dangerous this was. The view was beautiful. Scranton was hushed by the snow like a child was lulled to sleep under a torn but beloved security blanket. For as far as Pam could see, the snow was pristine and still sparkling, a far cry from the muddy slosh it would become once the plows barreled through it. As much as she hated the cold of winter, she had to admit that she did enjoy the first few snowfalls of the season. There was something magical about snowflakes getting tangled up in her hair and melting on her skin.

When she heard snow crunching behind her, she turned around slowly, carefully.

Jim was walking toward her, seemingly the human embodiment of "clumsy." His messenger bag was slung over his shoulder, he was cradling a thermos and two Styrofoam cups in one arm and dragging a lawn chair behind him.

Pam rushed over to him and took the thermos and cups and tried to help him set up the lawn chair, but he refused her help. She supposed it was a typical male response, sort of like not stopping to ask for directions (which, she had learned, he didn't).

Pam hugged the warm thermos close. "Hmm, so far I'm not seeing the benefits of this."

"You'll be dazzled," he promised. His voice was light and warm, unlike the weather. He propped the lawn chair open and sat in it.

"You want me to sit in the snow?" she asked, her nose wrinkling. "You are murdering chivalry here."

"Come on," he said, his voice low. He grabbed the sleeve of her jacket and gently tugged her into his lap in one smooth motion. He reached into his messenger bag with one hand and pulled out a blanket that appeared to be made of tinfoil.

Pam laughed when she saw it and snuggled closer to Jim. "Is that Dwight's NASA blanket?"

Jim nodded and wrapped the blanket around the both of them. "Yeah, I told him I was going to stay in my car."

He reached into the messenger bag again and this time pulled out a brown paper bag. "Would you mind pouring some of that hot chocolate while I serve dinner?"

Pam smiled despite her chattering teeth. She was freezing, but she could see why he promised dazzling results. She carefully poured the hot chocolate into the cups as Jim pulled various vending machine food items out of the paper bag.

She took a tentative sip of the hot chocolate and asked, "Where did you get this? It's glorious."

"I was going to do coffee," Jim told her, "but then I saw Phyllis had some of those little instant packets, so I did some bartering."

He handed her a package of Pop Tarts (strawberry frosted) and took the other one (unfrosted blueberry) for himself.

She tore the package open and held a Pop Tart out to him. "I'll trade you for one of yours."

"You hate the unfrosted kind."

"So do you."

He shrugged and traded her one of his inferior unfrosted Pop Tarts for one of her superior ones. They divided up the rest of their completely unhealthy vending machine dinner and ate happily, talking and joking all throughout the meal. After they finished off the last of the hot chocolate, Pam rested her head on Jim's shoulder. He wrapped the blanket more tightly around them.

"I'm freezing," Pam admitted. "But... so close to being dazzled."

"Well, we can't go inside until you're absolutely dazzled," Jim said. He chuckled and Pam could feel the rise and fall of his chest.

"You know what I haven't done in years?" she said quietly. "Made a snow angel. I can remember the last time I did, which is kind of stupid."

"No," he said, his voice as quiet as hers. It was something about the snow that seemed to require whispers. "Tell me about it."

"I was at my uncle's cabin," she said. "I was... twenty, I think. It was Christmas Eve. My cousins are all a lot younger than I am - I mean, Rob is the second oldest and he was only fifteen at the time. There's sort of a tradition in my family and it's kind of weird, but after dinner my uncle always has a cigar on the back porch and the kids always go out with him. It started because we all wanted to go out and play in the snow in the dark when we were younger, but it just kind of stuck, you know?"

Jim took her hand in his and rubbed her palm with his thumb.

Pam smiled, half from the feel of Jim's hand over hers and half from the memory "So, we're all out on the porch and I was just kind of sitting there, watching the cigar smoke curl up and float away. I was really hoping that I'd float away with the smoke, because... well, it was right before I dropped out of Marywood. I didn't know what I was doing with myself and I just felt like... I don't know. I must've looked exactly how I felt because Rob nailed me in the face with a snowball, which he thought was hilarious. I ended up jumping down into the snow with all my cousins. It was the first time we'd done that in years and the last thing we did before we went inside was make snow angels. We were all soaked and freezing, but it didn't matter..."

She stopped. She felt like crying and she wasn't really sure why. She knew it wouldn't be a good idea to cry in the cold, so she sniffled and rubbed at her eyes with her free hand. She could feel Jim moving beneath her and realized that he was trying to stand up. She jumped to her feet and wound up wrapped in the NASA blanket.

Jim was looking down at her with an expression she couldn't quite read. He reached out to wipe a snowflake gently from her cheek, then stepped around her so that he was facing her back.

She turned to face him, a quizzical look on her face.

Jim only smiled, stretched his arms out wide, and fell backwards into the snow with a thump!

Pam laughed as he made a snow angel. She threw off the NASA blanket and plopped down next to him and made her own.

Jim clambered to his feet and offered Pam his hands. He helped her up carefully so that her snow angel wouldn't be ruined with hand or footprints, then pulled her close.

"I'm dazzled," she said happily and reached up to give him a kiss.

They walked to the exit, hand in hand.

The unfrosted blueberry Pop Tarts lay forgotten in the snow.