The days weren't so bad, but the nights just sucked.

Ryan knew for a fact that this had nothing to do with Kelly, but every so often he wondered if maybe he should just give in. Drive back up to Scranton for a night and have it out with her. Of course, when he said have it out with her in his brain he knew that what he actually meant was yell at her and then get drunk and make out with her and then eventually have sex with her and then drive home before dawn the next morning, before she could wake up and try to do the whole snuggling thing. But this had nothing to do with Kelly, and knowing her, she'd just become that much more persistent afterwards about trying to win him back.

It was kind of flattering in a way. The fact that she obviously wanted him so badly was a little bit of a turn-on. But he'd always known that she'd been more into it than he had, and there was a fine line between flattering and stifling; Ryan had no intention of getting bogged down in some pointless relationship at this stage in life. Maybe later when he was like fifty and had nothing better to do he'd look her up again. No doubt she'd still be in Scranton, slaving away as the world's most annoying customer support rep. Whatever, he thought to himself. This isn't about her.

Although, in a way, it sort of was.

It was times like this, at night, when he was sitting alone in his ultra-modern apartment, staring blindly at the vivid colors that reflected on his glass-topped coffee table from the plasma screen on the opposite wall, these were the times that made him wonder if she had a lot more to do with it than he could admit, even to himself. After all, he wasn't sure he would have needed to prove himself so badly if she hadn't made him feel so stupid and inexperienced sometimes. That little giggle that meant she would never take him seriously, and the withering looks when he'd talked about taking trips to Europe instead of buying a house. The worst was when she knew something that he didn't. It was a sad day in Scranton when Kelly Kapoor was the smarter one in your relationship.

Still, there was just something about her. She was always so happy. Like nothing in the world could bring her down. Well, nothing except the latest celebrity break-up. But even then all she wanted to do was sympathize with the movie stars, which was sweet in a way. A little bizarre, sure, but still sweet. Ryan had never been one to go for the sweet, happy, sincere girl, but in the two months since they'd broken up and he'd moved here he'd gone on plenty of dates with lots of smart, sophisticated women and they'd been amazing, but somehow in the end they just...weren't...

This was pointless. What was he thinking? This had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the fact that Michael's latest screw-up would be costing the company thousands of dollars and David Wallace was depending on him to deal with all of it. He was an important guy with an important job now. No wonder he came home exhausted.

And if he spent all his weeknights stretched out on his leather couch, flicking absently through the channels, there was no shame in that. It was just stress. He was the wunderkind. His new business plan was starting to take off, and with the right marketing strategy he knew he could keep Dunder Mifflin afloat long enough to give him, Ryan, just enough time to find a better position elsewhere.

That's what the business world was all about. Upgrading. You couldn't keep the job you were in just because it was easy. You had to move onward and upward, climbing the corporate ladder to success no matter what the cost. Business school had taught him a lot. He just wished it had taught him how to upgrade his girlfriend to a newer, sleeker model without losing the things that made him like the last one in the first place.

Maybe he could just call her. It would probably take all of six seconds for him to hear her voice and be so disgusted with himself for crawling back to her. He wouldn't even have to say a word. She'd never have to know it was him. It could be like seventh grade all over again. Okay, that was a depressing thought. Besides, in seventh grade no one had had cell phones or caller ID. She'd know it was him. Still, maybe he could just call for a minute or two, just to make sure she was okay.

His finger was centimeters away from the call button when he realized that he just couldn't do this. There was absolutely no possible way he could ever call her again. No matter how much he might want to. If he called, she'd be relentless. She'd pester him every time he saw her. She'd probably drive into the city just to be near him. She'd send him CDs with mixes including Britney Spears to express her feelings for him. Ugh. That last one was too gross to even contemplate. So he did what he should've done ages ago. He pulled in a breath and deleted her number.

Because as bad as the nights were, the days weren't so bad. And the days were what really mattered now.

The nights could just suck it.