III.

Pam looks at her clock for what must be the thousandth time. She still has three-and-a-half hours to go before the alarm goes off, enough time for a decent nap if not a great night's sleep. It would normally be four more hours, but she's set the alarm ahead to give herself extra time to get ready in the morning. She smiles to herself, her cheeks warming as she thinks about that, but she clamps down on the feeling. After all, tomorrow might not be so great. She doesn't really believe that, though. She flips over, clutching her pillow, and closes her eyes. Sleep, come on, sleep, she tells herself. She remembers her mother's words from Christmas Eves past: Tomorrow will come faster if you sleep.

Her mind can't settle down, though. She's been filled with nervous energy ever since they had learned about the branch consolidation. Her eyes pop back open of their own accord, and she glances around the darkened room. In the glow from her clock, she can see the outfit she's carefully laid out to wear to work. It's casual and work-appropriate, but it is also new and flattering. She wants to be what he remembers, not too obvious, but she also wants him to see how she's changed. For the tenth time, she starts debating her choice, mentally reviewing her entire wardrobe. This is fairly easy, as she had just cleaned out and re-organized her closet the day before.

The closet-cleaning was just one step in the thorough make-over she had given the whole apartment over the last three days. Everything was spotless. New artwork that she'd created hung on the the walls. Fresh flowers adorned the small table. She had told herself that the cleaning was overdue- that it was keeping her busy- that she was enjoying it. Finally, she had confessed to herself that she wasn't so much cleaning as she was preparing. She was getting ready for a guest who was long overdue.

Pam yanks fretfully at the light blanket and smooths the sheets beneath her. They are soft and smell of sunshine, freshly laundered the night before. She blushes again and tries desperately not to think about anything but laundry. Even that betrays her, as she remembers fabric softener and a wonderful day, too long ago.

It has been a long time. The tiny voice of doubt speaks up again. It might be awkward. It might be too late. With another toss of her pillow, she again dismisses the idea. He's coming back tomorrow. She set him free and he has returned, which means he's hers to keep, right? She groans, laughing, at the trite expression. Her laughter sounds small in the empty darkness of her apartment, but she doesn't notice. She's getting a second chance. He's coming back.

She looks at the clock again. Three hours and fifteen minutes. Enough for a decent nap if she goes to sleep right now. She's not worried either way, though. He's coming back to her. Tomorrow is going to be wonderful.