She closes her eyes, opens them, closes them, opens them again. She knows she's wearing her contacts, but the sales report looks blurry in front of her eyes. Meaningless numbers and words she is making half-a-dozen copies of. 

Karen's report is stellar, she doesn't need to see the numbers to know that. Jim probably is, too, though his sales are the last thing she considers when thinking about him.

As she carefully files the reports, making sure they look good because she is thorough that way, she considers slipping there a note. A small post-it, just for Jim to see. A good luck wish.

Her eyes focus on a yogurt lid, half-hidden behind her monitor… there is nothing wrong with her eyes now, because it shines clearly. Half a dozen times Pam has considered throwing it away, only to decide to hide it deeper on her desk. Maybe she could… no. It's silly. She won't. Jim and her had been as honest as they ever had that night near the lake. Or at least she has. There is nothing to add, there is no need to try to bring back the past, because that’s a ship that sailed a long while ago. 

And there is no reason to wish him good luck because she doesn't really want him to do well. It’s petty, and selfish, but she’s trying to be honest, isn’t she? So, in all honesty, she wants him to fail the interview. She wants him not to get the job and to come back, a little defeated, but here. 4 feet from her desk.

She sighs, and hastily fakes a cough because Dwight is looking at her and sometimes she has the impression he knows. 

With a decisive motion she closes Jim and Karen’s files, and stands up. Jim is not at his desk and she is relieved to just leave the documents there. Karen is at hers, though, and it’s with as much good-will as she can muster that Pam wishes her good luck, as she gives her the sales reports.