Jim stared at the screen. It couldn’t be. It had to be a coincidence.

“Why am I even thinking about this?” he closed his laptop in disgust.

His sister had sent him the link about a year ago. At first, he didn’t understand it. Little postcards with secrets? Weird. But something kept drawing him back, week after week. Then he got it. You got caught up in these lives of strangers; their secrets were your secrets.

Jim remembered the first secret that spoke to him. It was a plain white note card with the words "I still haven't told my father that I have the same disease that killed my mother." It wasn’t that he could relate per say, both of his parents were still alive and kicking, but he spent the rest of that Sunday thinking about it. He imagined it was a girl, maybe a little younger than him, but still in her early 20s. She probably was diagnosed over a year ago, and was getting scared. Maybe the postcard was supposed to be her last ditch attempt to keep her secret, instead of telling her dad.

It was something Jim never shared, not even with Pam. It always felt too personal. Sure, the secrets were out on the internet, but his reactions to them – the laughter, the worry – they were his. He knew Pam would feel the same way; they always seemed to be in sync like that. Some weeks, he would find a postcard that reminded him of her, and he would write an email to share. But he would always delete it before he hit send. Something always stopped him.

So maybe that was why he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He knew what day it was; he recognized the handwriting. But it couldn’t be. Lots of people call off weddings, and even more have similar handwriting. So it couldn’t be anything important. It was just a coincidence.

But there it was. Staring back at him.

I called off my wedding because of another man. But now he’s farther away than ever. I’m scared it’s too late.

            Pam always woke up early on Sunday. She liked to be able to work in peace before Roy got up and real life began. Everything was quieter in the morning; she could clean, make phone calls, even run some errands while the rest of the world was still asleep. 

            But her first stop was always her computer. Her week was didn’t officially start until she visited PostSecret. She would make tea while the computer started and would read the secrets in private.  Roy caught her once and laughed. He couldn’t understand it, but Pam did. These were people’s secrets; it wasn’t just a postcard. Everyone one of them had a story behind it.

            Pam secretly envied them. Those who could express such deep emotions in such a small space, then let them go, move on. Every week she found another secret she didn’t know she had. Sometimes it helped, make her feel not as alone. But sometimes it made it worse, yet another thing holding her back.

This Sunday, however, Pam barely wanted to get out of bed. Jim was gone. This past week had been like hell, and sleeping seemed the only way to avoid the pain.

She skipped work the Friday after it happened. Michael said Jim was out also. He had joked about them playing hooky together. The mention of Jim made her feel sick.

            She had spent the weekend in bed. Her mom drove down for a quick visit, but even that wasn’t enough to cheer her up.

            On Monday, she forced herself to go into work. When she arrived, she looked at Jim. They glanced at each other nervously. Pam realized it would never be the same between them. The rest of the day, she caught herself looking at him. He never looked in her direction.

            At the end of the day, when he stood up, she could feel her heart drop. He announced he was leaving, transferring to Stamford. As everyone else reacted, she just sat there, shocked. 

            It took her until Thursday to go in again. She told Roy she was still sick. She just couldn’t bear to see Jim’s empty desk. It had too many memories. The pranks, the games, the conversations. The kiss.

            Thursday she braced herself before opening the door. It was just an empty desk of an old friend. She took a deep breath, and walked into the office. But his desk wasn’t empty. Instead of the tall salesman she expected to see; there was a shorter man with darker hair who didn’t seem to fill the space in quite the same way. She had to resist the urge to cry. This wasn’t right. Jim was gone, and now Ryan was there.

            That day was unbearable. She would glance up, expecting to see Jim. She didn’t think she could ever get used to it.

            The next day was just as bad. She considered quitting, getting a new job with less memories. Anything to escape the pain.

            Saturday was filled with wedding preparations. Three weeks and counting. But now, every decision was filled with dread. She couldn’t help but wonder if she made the right choice. She kept repeating to herself “I love Roy, he loves me. I love Roy, he loves me.” The more she said it though, the less it seemed true.

Sunday, she wanted to stay in bed. She lay there, thinking about everything that happened, that was still to happen. And that is when she remembered PostSecret. She hadn’t visited last week, too distracted by everything else going on.

            She practically ran over to the computer, and impatiently waited for it to start. She typed in the address, wanting to feel the happiness, the love and sadness, the escape she felt when viewing the secrets. Remind herself that there were others like her.

            She stopped scrolling halfway down the page.

The hours passed, but the image of the secret remained with her. The two hands at the top, the blue type across the bottom. It was as if the secret was haunting her, a constant reminder of the chaos in her life. She had closed the page almost immediately, in fear that Roy would see it, but that didn’t erase it from her memory. It was as if the postcard was addressed to her, questioning her desires, her wants, her needs. And if Roy was really the one who could fulfill them.

Jim was great; she loved him. “Like a friend,” she thought. But in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but think it was more than friendship. She had other friends, but with Jim…well, she hated going a day without talking to him. Every time something happened, he was the first one she told. He was there for her when her sister was sick. He had laughed with her over bad movies and popcorn. She could count on him.

But she loved Roy…didn’t she?

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the postcard. Her nights were restless, she didn’t have the energy to work or plan the wedding. Her mom was growing frustrated, not truly understanding the change in her daughter.

She lay in bed, thinking, until the early hours of the morning. It was then, with the air still and dark, that she decided. She didn’t want to wonder what it would be. She couldn’t marry Roy.

She had the best night’s sleep she had in a while.

Wednesday morning, she sat on the side of the bed, waiting. Waiting for Roy to finish his shower, waiting for him to brush his teeth, comb his hair.

The first time she told him, it only came out a whisper. She almost didn’t repeat herself, the second time was barely louder than he first. He heard it then.

He sat down next to her, shocked.

Neither of them went in to work that day. There was talking, yelling, crying, screaming. There were times Pam wanted to take it back, take the easy way and stay with Roy. It was only the image of that postcard, burned into her mind, which kept her going.

Roy left in the afternoon. Pam packed the essentials: some clothes, some toiletries. The last thing she packed was the picture of her and Jim. Phyllis had taken it at Jim’s party a few months ago. They were sitting on the couch, laughing; she couldn’t remember at what. It seemed so natural, so friendly.

She walked out of the house. She didn’t know what to do, whom to call, where to go. She just knew she couldn’t go back.

Finding myself is terrifying and wonderful

            The next two weeks were tough. Between moving out and canceling the wedding, Pam hardly had time to think – except to wonder if she made the right decision.

            She still hadn’t called Jim. She kept starting the call. She would dial the number only to stare at it on the screen. It was as if it was mocking her. 570-296-5927.

            It was the week of her wedding. “Or my would-have-been wedding,” she reminded herself. She needed to tell Jim. If she could cancel a wedding, she could call her best friend.

            She sat down on a couch in her new apartment. She took a deep breath and dialed the number. She felt sick, waiting for it to connect. When the electronic voice answered, saying the number was disconnected, her heart sank; she dropped her head into her hands. He changed his number. “Of course he has. He’s in Stamford now…”

            Pam didn’t move for nearly an hour, growing more and more dejected. She didn’t know what to do. Nothing seemed right – not email, not calling the office. She couldn’t drive up there. Everything she thought of she dismissed.

            Jim seemed a thousand miles away, and the more she thought about it, the farther it seemed.

            She realized it was a secret that started this thing – calling off the wedding, moving to a new apartment. But now she had a secret of her own. She frantically searched through her boxes. She knew she had some wedding magazines thrown in one of them. She had thrown them in with everything else when she moved out, not quite ready to get rid of everything she had been planning for the past three years.

            She found the picture she needed. The idea was already forming in her head. She stuck pieces of tape on top of the picture and scribbled her secret.

            She walked to the post office, guarding her secret. She didn’t want anyone to see it. The lobby was empty as she entered. She took a deep breath and slipped the card into the mailbox.

            She was free. Her secret was out in the open.

            i’ve given away all my secrets and i feel so free

            Jim left the postcard up on his screen for the rest of the day. Even when he wasn’t looking at it, he knew it was there. He just wasn’t sure what to do with it yet.

            He tried convincing himself it was just a coincidence – that on June 11th, there was a postcard that said someone called off a wedding because of someone else. In Pam’s handwriting no less. A big coincidence, but it really couldn’t mean anything.

            But still, he couldn’t close the page.

            By Sunday night, the postcard was still on his screen. He debated leaving his computer on all night, as if it would disappear if he shut down his computer. He saved the picture, and reluctantly shut down.

            He lay in bed, thinking about the card. What if his suspicions were right, and Pam was the one who sent it? Did she really call it off because of him? She said she was still going to marry Roy, but maybe, just maybe, what he had said made a difference. Made her realize that Roy wasn’t good enough for her. She was amazing, beautiful and talented. And Roy never recognized that. Roy treated her like garbage; he wasn’t good enough for her. Did she finally realize that?

            Monday, he woke up early, just to check the postcard. It was still there, saved on his hard drive as always – ‘toolate.jpg.’

            He drove into work. The Stamford office was quiet, everyone working on their own projects. It still didn’t feel natural. Perhaps it never would. Josh was a good boss; he actually made sales and never said anything stupid or offensive. He was still learning other people’s names. Karen seemed okay, Andy was always competitive, Rich was the quiet loner, while Sarah was talkative. What bothered him the most was the receptionist – an older woman with graying hair. Every time he walked in, she glanced up, but never said anything. When transferring calls or delivering messages, it was always simple and quick.

            The opposite of Pam.

            After a quick nod hello to the receptionist, Jim walked to his desk. He turned on his computer, and after logging into the system, he opened up PostSecret. He needed to see it one more time, just checking again.

            He must have lost track of time, just staring at it, because the next thing he heard was Karen.

            “Hey Halpert, what’s that?”

            Jim quickly closed the window. “Um, nothing, just…”

            “Chill. It was just a question.”

            Jim knew it couldn’t risk opening it at work again. He didn’t want his coworkers to know that side of his life – ever.

            That night, he printed off the copy he had saved. He couldn’t go another day without looking at it. With it printed, it made it real.

            He placed it in his messenger bag, protected inside a book. It would be with him at work tomorrow, ready if he needed to read it one more time.

            Tuesday he kept glancing at his bag, resisting the urge to take out the postcard. It took all his willpower to last until lunch.

            As everyone else left their desks, Jim grabbed his bag. He knew what he had to do. He couldn’t keep just looking at the post card; he needed to free himself from the what-ifs and could-have-beens to feel some relief from the confusion in his mind. He wasn’t sure it was from Pam, but if it was, he had to take a chance. He took the postcard and stuck a post-it note on it. His message was simple – “it’s not.”

            He placed it back in his bag. He would address and stamp it tonight. With any luck, it could be on the site by Sunday.

            imagine my surprise when you loved me back

            Her mom came down for the weekend, as a distraction for the wedding that wasn’t. She took Pam shopping, out to lunch, anything to take her mind off of what happened. She wanted more details, but was afraid to ask. Pam seemed guarded, and when asked about Jim, her eyes glazed over with tears. So, the conversation stayed on the happier side of things, such as new apartments, flowers, and family members.

            Pam woke up early out of habit on Sunday. She lay in bed until she remembered her secret. It was almost sickening waiting to see if it was posted. What would it feel like seeing it out there, for everyone to see? Would anyone she knew read it? Would anyone be able to realize it was hers? She silently cursed herself for using her own handwriting. She felt as if it was a big red sign – ‘Pam Beesly wrote this secret!’

            She started scrolling through the secrets, not even reading them. Then she saw hers. The two people at the altar, the tape covering the picture. The words.

            It was up there.

            Pam’s emotions were all over the place. She was amazed, shocked, scared, sick, happy, nervous, confused. Her thoughts were racing. She never expected to feel this way. It felt freeing as she sent in the secret, now she was full of worry. It seemed to real now. The big red sign grew. How could anyone not realize it was her secret? What if someone told Roy? Told Jim?

            She wanted the secret down, off the page, anything. She wanted to forget that secret, she wanted to move on.

But she couldn’t. She knew that. Even if the secret disappeared, she knew it was still true. She called off her wedding because of Jim. And it was too late. He moved, he was in another state. He wouldn’t want the mousy receptionist from Scranton anymore, not now.

            Maybe now she really could move on; at least, she hoped she could.

            That’s what she thought at least. Until the next Sunday, when she saw her secret again. But now she knew she couldn’t move on, because, maybe, just maybe, Jim hadn’t either.

            I feel like we're standing on the edge of something big. Take a leap of faith with me.

            Pam knew it was from Jim. Maybe it was just because she wanted it to be from him so badly, but the handwriting really looked like his. Those few letters just seemed so Jim-like, it convinced her he sent in the card. 

            She just didn’t know what the next step was. She still didn’t have his phone number, and it was too personal to discuss over email or a phone call to the office. And a trip to Stamford was risky… and a bit cliché she admitted to herself.

            It was almost as if fate was dangling this in front of her, taunting her because she couldn’t do anything about it.

            By Monday, the desire to do something was nearly overwhelming. She wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice, but calling on the office phone? What if he was in a meeting, or on a sales call? And did she really want to have this conversation at the office?

            She nervously asked around the office, seeing if anyone kept in touch and maybe had his new number. Kevin giggled, Angela glared, Stanley sighed. It seemed impossible. It was nearly the end of the day, when she thought of something.

            Jim probably would have had to update his info for Dunder Mifflin, and Toby, as the HR rep, should have access to it. She just had to wait before asking him – if Kelly overheard, she would never hear the end of it. She waited until she saw Toby enter the break room alone, and hurried back to talk.

            “Hey, Toby?”

            “Yeah, Pam?”

            “I was wondering, since Jim transferred and all, do you have his new home number or something? I mean, I know I could call him at work, but, I just…” Pam let her voice fade off.

            “Actually, yeah, I should. I mean, it should be in his updated personnel file. Didn’t he give it to you?”

            “Um, since I was sick when he left, it was just, it got lost in the confusion…”

            “Sure, one second, and I’ll get it for you.”

            Pam went back to her desk smiling. Finally things were looking up. It had been a rough month, but maybe now, something would change.

            Now she just needed to figure out what to say.

He recognized the number instantly. It nearly paralyzed him seeing it flash up on his screen. Of course this was what he wanted, he wanted her, he wanted to talk to her, to be with her. No one else.

But now with her calling him, it felt different. Sending in the post card was one thing. They could hide behind the anonymity. On the phone they couldn’t. It was him and it was her. Could they really actually talk about it? He feared they would fall back into their old patterns, the casual, easy, banter that defined their relationship up to that point.

“Hello?” his voice croaked.

“Hi, Jim?” her voice sounded small on the phone.

“Hey.”

The silence felt uncomfortable, a new feeling for them both.

Pam was the first to break the silence. “So, um, how are you?”

“Pretty good, um, still getting settled.” Jim instantly regretted saying that. Just for now, for these few minutes, he wanted to pretend that he wasn’t 150 miles away.

“That’s cool. Um, do you have a roommate?”

“No, just me.”

“Oh…”

The conversation lulled. Jim didn’t want to be the first one to mention the postcard, but he knew they were both dancing around the subject, hoping the other would bring it up. “So, are we going to ignore the obvious?”

“The postcard?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you looked at PostSecret.”

“Same. But, I think I’m glad I do.” Jim left it open-ended. He wanted her to admit to the postcard, just to hear her say it, once. He already had his heart broken, and he couldn’t risk it again.

“Yeah, I am, too.”

“Pam?” He asked, his voice soft.

“I didn’t marry him.”

Jim paused, not saying anything. It was as if the air was sucked out of his lungs. He was waiting for more, he needed to hear it. Hear her say that he had made a difference. That she still cared for him; she wanted to be more than just friends, something, anything.

“Because … of you.”

Jim let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding. She said it. She called off the wedding because of him, of what he said, of what he did. It was worth it. “Really?”

“Yeah. I just, I couldn’t spend the rest of my life wondering.”

“Okay, I think we can work with that.” Jim joked, happy to break the tension.

They both laughed.

“So, really, how’s Stamford?”

“Well, Josh is actually competent, so that’s new. But the receptionist leaves something to be desired.”

“Yeah, I never liked Megan much.”

The conversation started to flow like old times. Except there was something different about it now. Jim felt freer, as if he wasn’t restricted by his secret anymore. It may have seemed minor to anyone else, but he could fell a difference.

They never really talked about what would happen next – would Jim transfer back, would they do the long distance thing, or what. They laughed over the antics Michael pulled, and compared Dwight and Andy horror stories. They compared apartments – they both agreed Pam’s was better – and talked about the weather.

The conversation only waned when Pam started to yawn, but even then, Jim refused to hang up. They both lay down on their beds, phones beside them. They were tired, but still they talked. They said goodnight, but their phones still lay beside them, connected.

Maybe they didn’t know what was next, but they were happy with the way things were going. Finally.

She doesn’t know it yet, but, she’s going to marry me