She rubbed her nose on the back of her hand in an attempt to muffle her sniffles. After nine years, eleven months and twenty-eight days of marriage, it was no surprise that her husband noticed both her teary expression and her rather feeble attempt to mask it. 

“Pam?” he prompted gently. 

Another sniffle. 

“It’s silly,” she managed to murmur. 

Her deflection was met with a patient smile. After a moment, his brow furrowed. “No, it’s not,” he assessed carefully, his eyes taking in her face and finding genuine pain there. 

“What’s wrong?” he added. 

She sighed deeply and pushed the iPad she’d been reading from into his palms. 

He had to stifle a giggle, because of course she was reading Dwight’s utter nonsense propaganda rag of a newsletter. 

After (finally) winning the role of Manager, Dwight had knuckled down on all his Dwight-ness. Part of this included a lengthy monthly newsletter that was aimed at promoting a sense of belonging and facilitating closer, family-esque connections with their clients. 

Pam had proudly designed the banner that stretched across the top of each page. That was Jim’s favorite part of the whole thing, which was a tough call, considering Dwight included an image of ‘Dunder Mifflin Scranton’s Employee of the Month’ in every issue. So far, it had a featured a truly bizarre image of Dwight himself, appearing consecutively for the past 73 months in the a row. The. Same. Image. Jim was fairly sure he himself had taken it, in, oh about 2004. 

Pam remained perhaps its most avid reading, carefully perusing each article and storing key talking points in her mind for her semi-regular phone calls with Angela. Their unlikely friendship had survived the move to Austin. 

Dwight lingered in the background of their calls and interjected comments in response to Pam’s kindly notes on his articles. 

Jim also loitered in the background and gave his two cents about what an unique individual Dwight continued to be, whilst Pam shot him be nice eyes that he had trouble taking seriously in light of the laughter painting her face. 

So, Pam reading the newsletter was not unusual to say the least. But, her wobbling bottom lip and eyes laden with tears was definitely a little less regular.

Jim scanned the page before him carefully. It didn’t say as much, but Dwight was attempting to curb the negative perception of the paper company through adopting a far more environmentally friendly office concept. 

The initiative included a rewards program for sustainable commuting to work. He was installing bike racks and showers (with water reduction heads) towards this end. 

Jim crossed his fingers that the rewards program was Schrute bucks and Schrute bucks alone... 

His first date with Pam had left him with side splitting laughter despite the headiness of it all, after she had insisted on paying and while he was still gaping at her, she had whipped out a pile of Schrute bucks and explained their amazing economical value. Suffice to say, he now had a soft spot for the Schrute buck.

He read a few more lines and settled on the mostly likely phrase for his wife’s sorrow. “Oh,” fell from his slightly parted lips. 

“See, it’s stupid,” Pam murmured, shaking her head with self-deprecating laughter. 

“No, no,” Jim asserted. “It’s not,” his eyes continued sweeping in the page, taking in the rest of Dwight’s enviro-initiatives. 

“I,” she paused. “I just kind of wish we could visit and say goodbye.” 

“He’s keeping the office plant,” Jim marvelled. “That’s definitely sweet and very sentimental... for Dwight.” 

“Yeah, that part kind of made me cry too,” she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I feel like all our big moments happened there.” 

Jim sucked in an unsteady breath, even after all this time, when he thought back on their conversation in the parking lot on the casino night, the memories were still an assault more than anything else. He nodded in response. 

Pam’s tone was wistful. “I feel like that moment on the lot healed us through the mess of the early Athlead days more than the counselling.” 

Jim’s memories spiralled to another image, his hand clasped in Pam’s hair, her arms hanging limp at her sides and then rising to cling to him for dear life. He breathed out a yes. 

“Planting the office plant was such a lovely way to say goodbye,” Pam continued with her musings down memory lane. 

Jim found his voice. “I get it, Pam. I feel it too.” 

“I can’t believe Dwight’s tearing up the parking lot to build a green space and I’m losing my mind over it. But here we are,” she shrugged with a sigh and small lopsided smile. 

“Imagine how nice it would’ve been to have lunch out in the fresh air.” Jim was always a sucker for a silver lining. 

“What? Creed’s stale mung bean air wasn’t good enough for you?” she deadpanned. 

“That was definitely organic. So, still green,” Jim quirked a smile. 

Pam returned it softly. “I’m okay,” she paused. “You know how I am with change. It always takes me a while...” 

Jim shook his head. “You? No? You’re miss spontaneous.” 

Pam chuckled. “Thanks for talking me down. And for understanding my crazy attachment to old asphalt.”

 He tucked her under his chin and pressed a gently kiss to the top of her head. “That’s what I’m here for.” 

Over the next couple of days, the conversation slipped from the forefront of Pam’s mind. She still found herself waxing nostalgic over their time at Dunder Mifflin and more specifically the parking lot every now and then, but for the most part, the day to day of life fought for thought dominance. 

That didn’t stop her from taking pause on the morning of their ten year anniversary when a parcel emerged. 

She would recognize Dwight’s meticulous chicken scratch anywhere. His handwriting, much like the man was somehow both structured and completely illogical. She could read it easily, but each receptionist that had come after her had to ask for clarification far more often than not. 

Jim materialised at her side as she examined the package addressed only to “Halpert x 2” that now ordained their kitchen table. 

She could feel the grin radiating from him as he took his place beside her. 

“Open it,” he nudged. 

She carefully tore the package open to find a giant pillow of bubble wrap. 

She unravelled each layer. At its centre lay an aged chuck of asphalt that vaguely resembled a heart. 

Jim frowned. “Dwight took some creative liberties, I see...” 

Despite herself, she burst into tears. 

“That wasn’t the reaction I was going for,” Jim’s frown deepened. 

“I love it,” she blubbered with a wide grin. “It’s perfect.” 

“Happy anniversary, Pam,” Jim’s arms wrapped around her as she hiccupped against his chest. 

“Thank you,” she smiled into his shoulder. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he paused. “Please don’t tell anyone I got you a chunk of asphalt for our anniversary. I can picture Helene frowning at me,” he mocked a shudder. 

“Please. You can do no wrong in my mother’s eyes,” Pam chuckled. 

She untwined herself from Jim ever so slightly to twist in the cove of his body so her gaze lay on her present once again. 

“I’m going to frame it,” she murmured. “Is that stupid?” she added before shaking her head and grinning wider still. “I don’t care. I can always unframe it.” 

“Funny you should say that...” and he slipped away only to return moments later with a perfectly asphalt sized frame. 

Pam beamed up at him in response. 

She watched as he carefully settled the patch of parking lot into the frame. It was oddly comforting, given their history with it, to have it continue along their journey with them. Here it was, meeting another milestone with them, ten years of married life.