Out of poker chips, Jim steps outside for some fresh air. The weather is warm, too warm for a sweater, but Pam told him he looks nice, so he leaves it on. It's cooler in the parking lot and he stops to talk to Jan. She gives him some great perspective on destructive relationships and he remembers exactly why he went to see her in the first place. It also occurs to him that telling Pam he's moving away will be far less painful than living without her.

He'll do it on Saturday, over the phone. He's feeling brave, but not too brave.

Resolved, he heads back up to the office to grab his bag. A quiet sob greets him from the darkness. "Pam?"

Her head jerks up in surprise, tears shining in the light of the floor lamp over his shoulder. "Jim." She's sitting on the edge of his desk and he gets the sense she was waiting for him, knew he'd come.

"Pam, what's wrong? Are you okay?" One step closer and he could hold her in his arms, can't decide if that's something she'd want.

Her hand is covering her eyes, like she can't bear to look at something. "We... Roy and I had a fight."

Jim stands rooted to the spot. He loves her too much to hope it's over. "You'll work it out." The words come out as a question, although he meant to sound encouraging.

She shakes her head. "I don't think so." She chuckles miserably. "It was so stupid. I overheard him telling Kevin that Scrantonicity could play at the wedding and I just freaked out. He left me to look through all those videos, just like everything else to do with our wedding, and you know what he told Kevin?" Jim knows this is a rhetorical question and keeps his mouth shut. "He said ‘Whatever. I'm in charge of the music.' Can you believe that?"

He can, only it's probably a good idea not to share that right now. "Where did you leave things?"

She meets his eyes for the first time. "I called off the wedding. We broke up." Her arm lifts, then drops again, like maybe she wanted to reach for him, so he closes the gap and gathers her to his chest. Her tiny frame is shaking and he can't think of a single thing to say that will make it alright. Her hands fuss and twist, trapped against his ribs, until her engagement ring falls to his desk with a faint clunk. "Ten years," she whispers sadly. "My whole adult life."

His arms squeeze her tighter. "You'll be okay, Pam. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"You think so?" There's a new brightness in her tone. 

He smiles into her hair. "I know so." And he does.

Maybe he won't take that transfer after all.