Pam gazed skyward, savoring the remnants of a December sunset. She'd never dared to try it during the peak of midday, nor in warmer seasons. She'd learned her lesson after literally blistering her mouth on a pot of boiling water as a child.

No two sunsets were ever the same, not exactly. Today it was cotton candy pink, streaked through with warm creamsicle orange accents, with a hint of vanilla whiteness around the edges of her tongue. 

Movement caught the corner of her eye. Pam gasped, suddenly flustered, wide-eyed with astonishment. Why was he still here? He should have been gone… she checked her watch… six minutes ago.

Her brow knit in consternation. She'd done everything right. She'd spent the requisite eleven minutes in the ladies’ room after punching out. That should have made her late enough to avoid running into Jim, but not so late that she wouldn't beat Roy to the truck.

Roy didn't like to be kept waiting.

In general, Pam was able to choose whether to invoke her power, but she'd never been able to help herself where Jim was concerned. The flavors of pine, fresh mint, and lime jellybeans coated her tongue. Woodsy, warm with a hint of underlying coolness... the perfect temperature. Cozy, like a log cabin in the middle of the forest. Never too hot, never too cold, always sweet. 

Suddenly, he caught her staring. With a friendly grin, he waved goodbye.

Pam's hands clung to each other in an unconscious gesture. Her mouth watering involuntarily, she cast her eyes downward.

The small diamond on her left hand caught her eye, mocking her with its lackluster sparkle. Not for the first time, the sight brought the salt tang of sweat and the sharpness of bile to the back of her throat. 

Gasping against the rising of her gorge, bending at the waist, Pam searched feverishly for something to get the taste out of her mouth before it was too late. Anything, even a little snow would do.

A small pool of motor oil caught her eye and she immediately vomited. She closed her eyes to avoid looking at the puddle, knowing she'd be unable to stop if she didn't. She'd gotten better at controlling her powers over the years, particularly in front of co-workers... but her defenses were low after the last words Roy had spoken at lunch.

Eyes closed, Pam reflected darkly while she wiped her mouth. Roy's flavor had changed. He'd evoked images of warm leather, coffee, and dark chocolate when they'd met. Now, like him, his essence had gone to seed. Stale, musty, bitter. Like a cheap Hershey bar left to crumble in the back of a forgotten cabinet… like meat gone rancid, no longer prime.

Pam hadn't known such a thing was possible until it happened. Of course, she'd never met anyone with a power remotely similar to hers. Unlike people with more common abilities, she couldn't exactly compare experiences.

Breathing heavily, she tried to avoid thinking any further along those lines. Roy was due outside any second, and she needed to get a frickin' hold of herself.

Whoa. Jim jogged across the parking lot, lifting a hand without thinking. At the last moment, he pulled back instinctively, shoving both into his pockets. "You okay, Beesly?"

Pam opened her eyes and saw Jim's dark green tie, only inches away. Pine. She looked up, meeting his concerned gaze. Mint. Instantly, the turmoil in her stomach vanished, as though it had never existed. He quirked an uncertain smile down at her. Lime. 

She wasn't nauseated anymore, but somehow she felt worse than ever. Still, she nodded silently and averted her eyes. Opening the door of the truck, she stepped up into the driver's seat.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" Jim asked. Pam looked unsettled, fearful. She was paler than he'd ever seen her, and her eyes were fucking enormous. Not for the first time, he longed to sweep her into his arms, to put the light back into her eyes. 

She nodded again as she closed the door, glancing apprehensively toward the warehouse door. Thank you, she thought at Jim out of habit.

Realizing he couldn't hear her, Pam mouthed the words with a tentative wiggle of her fingers and started the engine. Hopefully he'd take the hint and go, already.

Shoulders slumped, Jim backed away. He made his way across the parking lot, lost in thought. He and Pam hadn't interacted outside of work for months, and it hadn't been a slow drift. More like she'd constructed a concrete wall between them overnight. They'd become fast friends when he'd started at Dunder Mifflin, but something had changed. Jim hadn't seen it coming, and still didn't know the reason. Pam had even stopped bringing in jellybeans, removing his flimsy pretext for spending time at reception.

After starting his car, Jim grasped the steering wheel and frowned at his hands. For the umpteenth time, he wondered if he was doing the right thing.

Pam contemplated reams of bond paper as she slid over to the passenger side. She turned up the radio, rested her head against the icy window, and sang inside her head along with the lyrics. During the commercials, she wondered what to make for dinner. She should call her sister... it had been awhile.

The driver's side door opened and closed. Although Roy never opened his mouth, his thoughts broke through the noise she was deliberately generating. SO fuckin' horny, Pammy.

She gazed wistfully out the window as the office disappeared around a corner. Please, not tonight.

Yes, tonight. OR ELSE. 

Pam clasped her hands instinctively over her ears against the command thundering through her mind, as though the gesture could keep Roy out or turn down the volume.

Please, I have a headache, she begged him silently. How about tomorrow?

Fuck that. How about right now? His laughter ricocheting rudely inside Pam's skull, he unbuckled his belt and grabbed her wrist.

No! No, please. Someone will see.

Do it. NOW.

Burning with shame, Pam did it, staring blankly out the windshield. She avoided looking at him, avoided thinking. If she did either one of those things, she'd surely vomit inside his truck—not theirs, as Roy liked to remind her—and things would go from bad to worse.

He stopped her before he finished. Pam wiped her hand on her skirt as tears streamed down her cheeks, knowing the worst was yet to come.

As she crossed the threshold of the apartment, Roy shoved her against the door, tugged down his pants, and pulled up her skirt.

Pam cringed when her head bounced off the wood. The headache she'd lied about earlier had become a reality. Please. Don't, she begged him silently, trying to distract him. It rarely worked, but it was worth trying for the few times it did. I was thinking about breakfast for dinner. Aren't you hungry? 

You've been thinking about HALPERT again! he boomed.

No, she denied, doing her best to avoid thinking about anything remotely green. I swear I wasn't. Pam thought about footballs pine and hockey pucks mint and basketballs lime and waverunners—

Shut up, bitch. You're wet. I know you were.

NO! Pam insisted. For the first time in a long time, she resisted. She shoved at Roy's chest, jammed her legs together, and tried to twist away from his grasp.

In a heartbeat, his thick fingers were wrapped around her neck.

Immediately, she froze, retreating instinctively. She fixated on the painting on the opposite wall, a small framed reproduction of Starry Night that she'd painted back in high school. Pam couldn't replicate it if she tried. It had been years since she'd so much as touched a paintbrush. 

It was her best work, but very far from perfect. Still, if Pam squinted hard enough, the flaws blurred together and she could taste the original piece. Raspberry blue ice cream, interspersed with the essence of swirling lemon drops.

Life had been so full of promise back then. So simple. So clean and pure and sweet.

Afterward, Pam showered automatically, dressed mechanically, and made dinner robotically. First, you

pine

scramble the eggs. Scramble, scramble, scramble. Then, you

mint

add the ham and cheese. Ham and ham and cheese cheese cheese. Then you

lime

get out the plates and then…

and then… and pine

then… and then… and mint

then… you lime HE TRIED TO CHOKE ME

The dishes slipped out of her hands, shattering on impact.

HE RAPED ME AGAIN HELP ME SOMEBODY ANYBODY

She crumpled weakly against the wall and slid down onto the tile.

NOBODY CARES

It was cold.

ONLY PINE MINT LIME AND I CAN'T

I can't

She didn't care.

i cant

so i wont

Pam lay still, emptied of emotion. Tears were for sad people and she wasn't sad anymore. She wasn't sure she was even a person anymore. Personally, she didn't care. She didn't care that she didn't care.

The subsequent intrusion was hardly unexpected.

If you ever tell ANYBODY, I'll kick his ass. Or worse.

There was no privacy under this roof. Pam didn't care. Dinner's ready.

Eyeing the broken glass, Roy carefully stepped around it. Clumsy bitch. You're buying new ones.

She would. She didn't care. Okay.

You KNOW I hate ham in my eggs, you stupid CUNT!

She forgot. She didn't care. Okay.

Lifting the sizzling frying pan, Roy hurled it against the wall. The frame of Pam's painting shattered as it fell to the floor, adding glass shards to the mess she'd made.

He laughed cruelly, silently, for her ears only. I'm going to McDonald's. Be back whenever. It's poker night.

Now Pam cared. Not about herself, but about that poorly-executed, perfect little painting. Every emotion she'd been unable to feel came screaming back in an instant. "NO!" she howled, the first word she'd said out loud since hanging up the phone at a quarter to five.

She crawled over as the door slammed shut, desperately picking off bits of greasy ham and chunks of egg. But the molten cheese wouldn't come off, try as she might.

Pine.

Pam didn't realize she'd cut herself until she noticed red drops raining down on the canvas.

Mint.

She didn't realize she'd pulled out her phone until it was in her hand.

Lime.

She didn't realize who she was calling until it was ringing.