Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Angela sat alone at her desk in the office, exhausted and furious after the "fun run," pining over a picture of her dearly departed Sprinkles. She stroked the picture gently with her index finger, just as she would have stroked the top of the feline's head in life. She couldn't force herself to get up and go home, because when she went home she would need to make dinner, and she would need to open the freezer... and she knew what she would find in there.

She stifled a sob and placed the photo of her beloved pet next to the Virgin Mary prayer card that kept a constant vigil over her computer keyboard. In the process, she knocked a pencil cup off Oscar's desk. She sighed loudly and bent down to pick up the pens that were scattered on the carpet.

As she picked up a pen that advertised for a local car body shop, she heard the door to the office open. She froze, thinking it was Dwight looking for her. She didn't want to speak to him. She held her breath and hoped he wouldn't find her.

"I think I'm going to put it on my bedside table."

It was Pam, not Dwight.

Angela slowly peeked her head around the corner of the wall that divided her desk from the reception area and saw that Pam was speaking to Jim.

Jim picked something up from his desk and shoved it in his pants pocket. He smirked and replied, "Yeah, it'll really pull the space together."

"You really need to stop watching the Style Channel," Pam said, a smile playing on her lips. "I'm starting to wonder..."

"Oh, really?" Jim asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Before Pam could come back with a witty retort, Jim's mouth was on hers. After they parted, they shared another low laugh and a smile before leaving the office.

Angela sat upright in her chair and carefully dropped the pens back into the cup on Oscar's desk.

Well, what she witnessed wasn't exactly a surprise. They were both shameless in their own way - fiances, girlfriends... nothing mattered to that pair. She was eighty-seven percent sure that Jim Halpert was a heathen, anyway. But, still, Pam had been... well, she wanted to say a friend but Pam didn't read the Bible enough for that and her skirts were too short sometimes. All in all, however, Angela knew she could count on Pam for relationship advice, or, better still, her silence and discretion in those matters.

Idly, she added a notch to her Pam Pong scoreboard and settled back in her chair, knowing that was as close as she would get to telling anyone what she had just witnessed.