Stupid, stupid, so stupid.

She sits stiffly in her chair, staring at her hands flat on the desk in front of her. She presses her palms into the wood to mask their trembling. She takes deep breaths, willing herself not to cry. She never thought she’d appreciate having her own office quite as much as she does at this moment.

There are these things she’s been telling herself, ever since she sat next to a fountain in New York City crying as passers-by pretended not to see her. She told herself Jim didn’t want anything real, things that took actual responsibility and effort and bravery. He’d rather just complain about what he had and imagine how much better his life would be if it were different. That’s how he was about his job; why wouldn’t he be the same way in a relationship? Why wouldn’t he want something he couldn’t have just because what he did have wasn’t perfect? Idealized the unattainable?

She supposes a part of her always assumed he’d be just as disappointed with the real Pam as he was with the real Karen. Maybe it was petty, but it was self-preservation. It meant she didn’t have to compare herself to a shy receptionist and wonder why she didn’t measure up. But maybe it never really occurred to her that he’d be just as happy with reality as he was with fantasy.

She thinks about him sitting there in front of her, sporting an ill-fitting warehouse worker’s uniform and an expression best-suited to a twelve-year-old in the principal’s office. She had grasped at that cockiness that had served her so well in the past, before branch mergers and Jagermeister-Thursdays and new Assistant Regional Managers. It backfired. Oh, did it backfire.

Closing her eyes against a fresh wave of humiliation, she brings her forehead to rest on the desk in front of her.

She tries to pinpoint the moment when being near him went from making her feel bubbly and young to brittle and needy. She can’t decide if it makes everything better or worse that she knows the exact moment she should have ended it. Hindsight is viciously clear in this case. He told her. He told her he still had feelings for Pam. He probably expected her to dump him on the spot. Maybe even wanted her to.

What is wrong with her? She feels like she loses half her IQ points and every resolution she’s ever made when she gets within five feet of him. But why? She has a laundry list of his faults that she can (and has) written down. He’s immature. He can never just say what he means or what he wants. He never takes anything seriously unless absolutely forced to. He complains about how he doesn’t want paper sales to be his life, but never does one damn thing to change it.

But she doesn’t miss what was. She misses what could have been. The promise she felt those first few times he really smiled at her, kissed her, touched her. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing was ever real to begin with. Her hopes were only that. Stupid, naïve dreams.

It’s stupid, stupid. It’s stupid she invested so much in a doomed relationship, it’s stupid she let it get to her six months later, and it’s stupid that she’s sitting here thinking about him right now.

She straightens in her chair abruptly. Just stop it. She stares at the ceiling, blinks until her eyes no longer feel wet. She takes a deep breath, and pushes her hair behind her ears. She picks up her phone. Time to get back to work. Life goes on.

Life goes on.