He has paper selling hands, no paper cuts or anything;
just smears of ink down the side of his pinky from filling out form after form. The tips of his fingers are dotted with reds and purples from the jelly beans he eats so often, but too slowly causing them to melt in his hands. His palms are a little sticky from putting his desk mate’s stapler in jello. He really should wash them, but that would wash away the memories. Memories of her. Which would cause a certain emptiness in the very core of his heart. Sure the pain of loving her in secret hurts, but the thought of forgetting her completely would send him spiraling into a non-existent state. So he savors these memories and hopes that maybe, just maybe, she might love him too. It’s a prayer really, asking God to send her love his way. But in the end the nice guy gets the girl, right? He turns his attention back to the papers he was filling out. Missing the longing glance, from her. Watching his paper selling hands.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: I do not own The Office, if I did would I really be spending my time writing these?...Well maybe. =)
