It was the first time I'd gone to a bar in over a month. Saturday nights were usually spent renting a movie, drawing, and going to bed by 10:30. If it hadn't been my best friend, Jessie's, birthday, I probably would've continued my usual routine. I felt like getting dressed up for once that night. I put on some evening make-up, a short red dress, and black Christian Louboutin shoes, the only expensive thing I owned. There was an 80s cover band at the bar that night. I remember them playing "Because the Night" by Patti Smith when I first saw him. Jim Halpert. He looked different. His hair was shorter and gelled for once. He looked like he'd been working out. The last time I saw him was nearly 2 years ago, on the day I moved out of our house. I recognized him because he was wearing a blue, button down shirt I bought him. He always looked great in blue. He walked up to the bar and ordered a Miller Lite, while I tried my best to avoid his line of vision. I didn't want to draw attention to myself so I turned around to my group and joined in on the conversation, stirring my vodka tonic. I turned around to see him join a group of people. I recognized Mark, his old roommate, but the others were strangers. I remember him looking happy, like he belonged.

I managed to avoid eye contact for nearly half an hour. When our eyes finally met, he walked over to me from the other side of the bar. I turned to order another drink, hoping he'd avoid me.

"Pam Beesley", he said to me with a smile. I turned to him, praying I still looked as good as I did when I left the house.

“Jim Halpert. How are you?” I went in for an awkward hug. I don’t remember what we talked about in that oh so brief 4 minutes, but I remember feeling like I was 16 and talking to a boy for the first time again. He told me that it was good seeing me again, and kissed my cheek before heading back over to his group of friends. I felt his lips on my cheek for the next hour. I continued to drink him away, hoping to forget his presence. Old memories started rushing back into my brain. I wanted to walk over to him and tell him that I’d made a mistake leaving him. I wanted to tell him that he was the one I wanted to spend my life with. I wanted to tell him that I didn’t mean a word I said the night I broke things off. I wanted to tell him everything I’d been holding back for 2 years, but I didn’t. I just watched him from the other side of the room. He had his arm around the hips of a wispy, blonde 20-something exactly the way he used to hold me. Although his appearance had changed, his mannerisms hadn’t. I could tell he didn’t know her that well. I watched him whisper into her ear, and take her hand. On the way out the door, our eyes met yet again for a slit second. He gave me the same look he gave me the day I left him. The entire world disappeared, and all I could see was him in my rear view mirror on that day, looking bruised and broken. I ordered 3 shots of whiskey and made an excuse to leave the bar. I took a detour on the way home so I could drive past the house that used to be ours. His car was in the driveway and his lights were off. I imagined him making love to the blonde the way he used to make love to me. I sat outside his house for what seemed like an eternity, until it hurt too much to stay. When I finally got home, I threw my clothes off and got into bed. The night was silent and cold.  I drifted to sleep and dreamt of the life I could’ve had with Jim. The life I should’ve had.