Pam hates sheets. Hates the way her legs become tangled up in them, the way they cling to her and make her stumble when she tries to escape… hates the look on Roy’s face when she half pulls them off the bed in the morning because her foot is wrapped between the layers.
Stray thoughts come to her when she’s struggling to get up, and more recently she’s begun wondering what Jim’s opinions on sheets are.
xxx
“You look hot today Pam.”
Roy smiles his dimpled grin, bright from possibilities and a good eight hours of sleep, kissing her before diving into his bowl of cereal. It’s hot today. Hot enough for the air-conditioning to be noisily ventilating their home, hot enough for the flowers outside to be wilting a little, but it hasn’t stopped her from bringing them in and placing them on almost all the available surfaces.
The colors distract her from eating and she’s thinking of swirls of paints and crayons unexpectedly. And she has to be sure she has the little sticks of wax because it matters, for some reason she doesn’t bother to argue with. It matters as she deposits her plate in the sink, making a mental note to wash it later, and tugs open the closet door.
xxx
There’s a half smile on her face when Meredith catches her sketching her kitchen flowers. Meredith pauses (and there are moments in the hesitations of Dunder-Mifflin that Pam’s gotten used to, but she’s reminded, quite suddenly, that Meredith is a mom) before smiling a rare real smile, with teeth and everything.
A little later she’s clicking the little Send/Receive button for her email and the first new message contains a link to a local art class and a rambling note from Meredith explaining that her daughter Wendy was getting into that kind of stuff and she remembered seeing this course when she was at the homepage, trying to learn a little.
Pam doesn’t want to be Meredith, with the divorces and the kids, sitting in an office drinking god knows what from a Big Gulp 44 oz. container. She prints off the information for the class.
xxx
Oscar mutters to himself when the door sticks and drops the mail on her desk, carrying lunch for himself. Pam nods at him, but he’s not paying attention anymore and she’s alone again. Organizing the mail appeals to her more than getting up does so she sorts by last name, wondering why people send them mail here and why that’s bothering her now of all times. Phyllis asks her if she’s ready for lunch; Pam sighs a little, standing, thinks about telling people what she really wants.
xxx
She’s just finished making Stanley copies of information for the company he’s on the phone with when Michael comes out of his office and stares at Jim’s (old) desk. He’s making it worse than it is now because she’s avoided looking at that space all day, even when Dwight started measuring something on his (old) desk. It’s a loud sniffle that makes her glance there and then her boss is sitting on his chair, rolling it to her, asking her if she thinks he can throw it away because he can’t stand to see it empty.
It’s safe to tell him that corporate wouldn’t appreciate it and not a lie to add that giving it away can’t keep away the memories. Michael nods like a small child being told his dog isn’t coming back. Pam watches him scoot back to the desk dejectedly muttering about defecting.
xxx
Three sounds reach her though the barrier separating Accounting from Reception: the sound of Angela’s voice, usually scolding Kevin or telling Oscar something, the clatter of fingers on keyboards, and sometimes papers rustling and the soft scratch of pencil on paper. Today someone’s humming. Just a faint, happy tune, but there it is and she’s considering poking her head over like Angela does sometimes to see if she’s going crazy.
xxx
“Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam.”
xxx
Kevin’s leering at her in his strange way that means he’s thinking about something else. She’s just the place holder for his thoughts and that’s oddly insulting in some off-hand way that makes her think she is spending too much time at Dunder-Mifflin.
The fax machine whirrs and he shuffles back to his corner.
xxx
Aside from being the only person to mope outwardly about Jim leaving other than Michael, Kelly’s been Pam’s real connection to anyone at the office for three weeks. Really, she’s convinced if she quit right now Michael would leave long random, rambling messages on her phone and Kelly would cry. Maybe Toby would miss her. She’s not exactly positive on that.
xxx
Everyone’s left when she rises and pulls her wonderful amazing chair that she hides from the rest of the office to Jim’s desk. His chair is old and a little beaten from years of wear, but she switches them anyway.
The next day she really smiles at the discovery that it’s still set for long legs and she doesn’t bother to change it.
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks so much to comiskey and elly for the beta and the ideas! This fic was only half finished without you guys.
dreamingwriter is the author of 1 other stories.
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