She’s sitting in her car, waiting. The car isn’t even a year old yet-she knows this because that night stands as a landmark in time by which she counts her regrets over the past year – and the car was purchased merely weeks afterwards. She sits in her mostly brand new, not even year old car trying to start it but getting only a low whine in response, followed by her dashboard lighting up with warnings telling her that no, you are not going home yet, because your battery is dead.

She thinks of the irony that this would happen today of all days, and how Roy would be the first one to lecture her on the importance of never leaving one of the lights on in her car, which she is sure is most likely the cause of this inconvenience, but it’s a habit that she just cannot seem to shake.

Pam was the last one left in the office and so there is no one here to help her jump her car. In the past, before that night, she would have called Roy, and even a few months ago too. But that bridge has been burned and her parents are out of town so she sits and waits for the triple A guy to come and give her a jump. Hopefully then she can finally put this day behind her.

It’s freezing out, and spring is about a month away but tonight it feels so much farther out than that. She can see her breath billow in front of her while she sits in the driver’s seat, her fingers numb even below the layer of wooly warmth her gloves provide.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, Pam checks her watch and peers out of her window to try and spot any sign of help approaching. She briefly thinks about walking to the bus stop a few blocks away instead, just to get home already. A brutally long, mind numbing day had ended with Roy attempting to attack Jim and Dwight spraying so much pepper spray that she had barely been able to see for the past hour. The only thing that can fix this day is home, pajamas, and maybe a glass of wine.

Lately, he doesn’t talk to her, doesn’t look at her, and his indifference is painful. Most days as she gets ready for work she daydreams about quitting, about moving away where she doesn’t know anyone and where she doesn’t have to see him not see her everyday. And she has moments where she alternates between wanting to cry and beg him to come back to her, beg him to be the man she used to know, and then anger that makes her want to demand that he look at her, not through her, talk to her, give her another chance. Hadn’t she deserved it?

But she won’t do any of those things, she knows she won’t. Because he’s moved on and the Jim that loved her, the man she loves, would never make her feel invisible, insignificant. And any chance she might have had before was completely non existent now, if the cold, passing glance that he gave her on his way out tonight was any indication.

Her phone rings and the woman on the other end tells her that they are running behind, and someone should be there within an hour. Great.

She tilts her car seat backwards and fishes her MP3 player out of her purse. Putting it on speaker, she rests her head back and closes her eyes.

Ten minutes later, she doesn’t see the headlights as a car pulls into the parking lot.

**********

Jim pulls into the office parking lot, stopping by to pick up some things he needs for an early morning sales call tomorrow. He figures that after the day he’s had today the last thing he’ll want to do in the morning is swing by work. As he parks he sees that her car is in the parking lot and he hesitates before getting out of his car to head into the building.

He feels a twisting in his gut and considers not going in, maybe waiting until she has left, because he hasn’t been alone in a room with her for a long time, and he was not prepared to face that tonight. After a contemplative minute, he defiantly shakes it off and figures he will use his normal tactic of putting his head down, looking past her, and getting in and out of there quickly.

But he is surprised when he walks in the office and she’s not in there. No one is, the lights are out and the doors had been locked. But her car…it was in the parking lot? He feels a tug of concern in his stomach and he tries to ignore it as he gathers pricing sheets and extra business cards from his desk. Still, once he has what he needs he takes the stairs – quickly – back down to the lobby instead of taking the elevator, hurrying out to the parking lot to see that her car is still there, just as it was when he arrived.

Her car looks still and dark and he wonders if she met up with a friend and left her car here, but then he thinks of her being here alone at night, walking out to her car long after everyone left and a bit of panic sets it. He doesn’t think that Roy would hurt her, or approach her after hours in the dark of night, but really he doesn’t know that especially in light of what happened at work today.

The realization cases him to move faster towards her car and when he looks in the window Jim is surprised and relieved to see her leaning back in her seat, eyes closed and the muffled hum of music now audible as he stands next to her car.

He hesitates for a minute, but then knocks, feeling almost silly for mentally freaking out and still angry with her for, well…everything. She seems to startle and scrambles to sit up in her seat, her hands fitfully feeling around to find the button for the window, which doesn’t seem to be working. She’s shaking her head in frustration before finally managing to get the car door open.

He steps back to accommodate her, and he can’t help the small, fleeting smile that crosses his face when he realizes she looks a little sleepy, and her nose is red from the cold. She’s staring up at him from the driver’s seat of her car, looking uneasy upon realizing it’s him.

“Oh, hey Jim.”

He nods, shoves his hands in his pockets, and they stare at one another, the tension hanging between them like their breath in the cold night air.