Dear Tomorrow,

You've been shining so brightly,

I'll be holding on tightly,

To the words that you said

If he really thought about it, Jim should currently be hating his new job. Selling paper with an insane boss and a strange desk-mate sounded like his worst nightmare. As a kid, he wanted to be an astronaut. In high school and the beginning of college, he wanted to be a player in the NBA (specifically playing for the Sixers). His parents eventually convinced him to get a degree in business with a minor in sports management. Dunder Mifflin was the only company to call him back after a couple months of job searching, so when Michael offered him the job on the spot, he accepted. He walked out of the building that day telling himself this wasn’t a career; it was an opportunity to gain experience until something better came along. He would keep an eye out for better jobs, but until then, he would put up with the guy who made three Jim Carey impressions within the first ten minutes of the interview.

But now he is walking through his front door with an idiot smile on his face and looking for new jobs is the last thing on his mind.

He got to work a couple minutes early this morning, grabbing his messenger bag from the front seat and slinging it over his shoulder. He had his usual first day of work jitters but tried to push them down as he entered the elevator and went to the third floor. When he walked through the office doors, the butterflies in his stomach fluttered harder, but this time for an entirely different reason. The girl at reception wasn’t the same girl that was there during his interview. This one had curly, auburn hair, bright green eyes, and after he introduced himself, he found that she had the cutest smile.

And as if that wasn’t enough, before he could even find out her name, she says, “Enjoy this moment, because you're never going to back to this time before you met your desk-mate, Dwight.” The lilt of her voice, the way she snuck glances over at the middle-parted haired, glasses wearing man he could only assume to be the Dwight she was talking about, and the quiet giggle she gave to his raised eyebrows had him convinced that he was already in love.  

Throughout the rest of the day, Michael wouldn’t stop ruffling his hair, Dwight got on his last nerve about six times, and the redhead on the other side of the bullpen, Miriam? No, Meredith, made at least ten crude remarks to him by the time five o’clock rolled around. But Pam kept meeting his gaze with either a sympathetic look or an exaggerated eye roll anytime he swiveled his chair over to look at her, every annoyance instantly forgotten the moment he saw her lips curve upwards. When she accepted his offer to walk out with her, it took all he had to hold back from sliding his hand into hers.

 The thought came to him on his way home. Ever since he was little, his mom told him that a handwritten letter was one of the most meaningful things you could ever give someone. He didn’t buy a card from a store until he was a sophomore in college, his mom always insisting he make one himself and then eventually he actually preferred creating his own versus letting someone else speak for him. He certainly knew that nothing Hallmark had ever sold could express how he already felt towards Pam.

He made his way up to his room and sat at his desk, the words flowing as soon as his pen hit paper.

Pam,

You were a saving grace today. I almost left for lunch and didn’t come back; I’m pretty sure Dwight was hoping I would do the same. You couldn’t have been more right when you said I’d never be able to go back to a time before I met him, even though I wish I could.

I came back because I’m pretty sure you and I are the only sane ones in this office, and I would hate it if they started to rub off on you. But I also came back just because of you. Your smile, your laugh, your jokes. The way you immediately played along with my prank on Dwight today. Because I saw you had made a note to get more jellybeans after I emptied your stash, even though you said no one else eats them.

Most importantly, I came back because I want to get to know you. What you like, what you don’t like. I want to know your favorite color and your biggest fear; what your parents’ names are and your favorite vacation spot. Anything you are willing to share, I want to know. Because I think you’re incredible, even though I’ve only known you for eight hours at this point.

Thanks for taking me in today, making sure I didn’t get swept into the tsunami that is Michael Scott. How that man became a manager is beyond me.

Yours Truly,

Jim

P.S. I’m planning a Jell-O prank for Dwight next week. You in?

He folded it up and stuck it in an old envelope he found at the bottom of his drawer, scribbling her name across the front. He put it in the inside pocket of his messenger bag; he would give it to her on Friday before asking her out to dinner that evening. His heart raced with the thought of seeing her outside of work, of being able to find out all the little details about her, of kissing her goodnight on her front porch.

During lunch on Thursday, he found out she was engaged. The letter was thrown out once he got home.