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Story Notes:

I am really nervous ,this is my first fanfiction ever so please be kind:)I had this idea for a really long time and i am praying that i don't fuck it up

the title is from a song by my queen Sara Barellies called Door number three -this is like a songfiction abot jim and pam from pam's perspective and also her childhood and all that fun stuff

 of course i do not own the office or jim an pam ,or any of the songs i used or pretty much anything i just have an unhelathy obsession with them

oh and also english isn't my first language and i am typing this on a quite broken screen sorry i am mess so sorry for any spellinng mistakes

anyway i really hope someone likes this🌸💓 

Author's Chapter Notes:

the song from this chapter is beautiful lies by birdy 💕 

enjoy(i guess) 

Beautiful lies
Cover my eyes with your hands
Just pretend we're better
Turn out the light
There are no more surprises to come
Let's be numb together

The street where her family lived was kind of old, kind of ordinary, long and big, really really big. It was overflowing with the feeling that you could be eaten as a whole, that it would consume every little part of you and keep you inside of her stomach, stuck to her ground full of many similar,boring ,cheap houses and people who spent their lives living so close to one another but that only shared words like Hello, Goodbye, Merry Christmas and the way that they were all so stuck not really knowing how to get out.

Their house was somewhere in the middle, and the only difference was that instead of one it had two trees, the backyard was filled with flowers and in the corner was a swing - well used and loved - but everything else, everything else was nearly the same, modest, not too big but not too small – it was just enough.

They had three bedrooms - no guest ones, because their guests never stayed for that long, a quite small, narrow bathroom colored in pink, suitable basically for one.Living room was fairly big and connected to the kitchen, which was the room that they spent the most of their time in - they ate a lot.

Namely, her parents had a passion for swallowing very white, very very tiny lies (food never fully digested). They loved to act and they did it quite often and very well (so well that they should have became actors instead of these boring people on a boring street) that they slowly but surely started to believe in all those lies. They spent a lot of their time in the kitchen 'cause they loved to eat.

For breakfast they ate their fights (if you could it even call them fights). They regularly started stormy, fast but were short-lived and easily pushed aside. About 12 years ago it was their first anniversary, they had a plan for a nice, fancy date and Helene, happy and gorgeous, waited for William, but he didn't show. He forgot, got drunk with his friends and was woken up early in the morning by a phone-call from his angry then-girlfriend. So to solve this issue he bought some random flowers, knocked on her door, said sorry and the rest of the fighting was done by their temporary heat. It became the usual pattern and honesty was never on their side. This silence became easy and so they ate their breakfast alone, each in their own way, but big and with the most calories, because that is the way that it should be – It is the most important meal of the day.

Oh, well, I've tried to be open
But I've found it's hard when you're broken
And in the heat of the moment, we're free
So please, please

For lunch they ate their boredom, loneliness, lack of a need to change, they ate each others routines and they didn't have much that was warm. She was a teacher at a local school, he spent his days in a thick aired office from 9 to 5. They stayed the same and didn't encouraged each other – not to be someone else completely, but to grow, become better. They didn't inspire each other so they stayed the same,and would eat together around 5.30, because that's when they were both home. On weekends it was at 3 and it was bigger, not very healthy and always shared, eaten in a comfortable silence.

When they did eat dinner, which was rarely, they consumed all those things that were maybe on a first look not that necessary, that they didn't laugh at the same things, that she had her friends and he had his, that when his smile would reach his eyes, hers wouldn't even touch her(I mean the important thing was that they both wanted white picket fence and two kids,right?).So dinner was small, sometimes eaten apart, sometimes together and no, it wasn't that necessary but it ended their day.

Tell me beautiful lies
I wish that I had the strength to let go, but I don't
I'm paralyzed
I see the child in your eyes and I'm stuck in the headlights

Desserts were the best part and inevitably sweet, so much that it is strange how they didn't get sick.Sweet was the way that his hair curled and her fingers could get lost in it, and sweet were those dimples in his cheeks and his green eyes. Sweet was her skin covered in powdered sugar that he so badly wanted to taste, and her pretty face and her blonde, long hair,the strength that she possessed that he never had. And as two blocks of sugar were two sweet daughters.

One was not yet born, but soon to be met and her name was going to be Penny.

The other one is five and she shared her name and her looks with her grandmother who died a month before her birth. She is the reason that this home has a swing and flowers and the reason that it is different. Her face is made of honey with big, round, rosy cheeks, her hair big, frizzy curls in two pigtails. Some strangers would assume that she is shy, timid, quiet (and they wouldn't be wrong) but in her home, to her parents, she is someone who makes them more alive, the only thing that makes them both smile in the same way at the same time - smile higher than their eyes. Someone who makes them stronger than they actually are.

She would draw on the fridge, on the walls of her bedroom and the walls of her skin. She is loud and makes a mess that they were lucky enough to clean.

She is wonderful and she is Pam.

Tell me beautiful lies
Cover my eyes with your hands

Chapter End Notes:
i am dying righ now

middleclassfraud is the author of 0 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 2 members. Members who liked He Lifts Me,But Never Once Carried also liked 103 other stories.
This story is part of the series, Songs For The Lovers.

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