Pam slumps down at Jim's desk after the office door softly clicks closed behind him. She can still feel the echo of his lips on hers; the feel of the soft wisps of hair at the nape of his neck as they'd passed along her fingertips not five minutes ago. A sob lodges itself deep within her throat and threatens to break her. Before she can stop herself, she begins to weep. She cries for what feels like an eternity, at first not even trying to understand why. She just lets the tears flow, hears her whaled moans ricochet around her, gives in to the drama of it all as it lands in a puddle of tears on her dress.  

When the swell of emotion begins to ebb, she reasons she should probably get a freakin' grip. She fights the next rise coming and focuses her breath so she can utilize all her efforts to sorting through this mess. She doesn't understand why she can't get clarity; why this is impacting her so strongly. So many emotions are rolling into each other: anger, confusion, fear, excitement, shock, guilt, sadness... They're all there, but no one label seems to encapsulate all that she's trudging through right now.

She knows she feels blindsided; scared of the volume of emotions she's been exposed to in just one night. It really has felt like a roller coaster, though she's honest enough to admit she's known some of the truth presented tonight before Jim spoke those words to her. However, she can't admit much more beyond that; she's not honest enough.  

She steals herself. Tries to be convincing with a shrug. "It'll blow over." Their friendship is solid; years of growth and dependability. It might be awkward for a hot minute, but they'll make it through; laugh it off one day... once the ghost of the tear tumbling down his cheek fades from her mind; once the memory of soft lips and strong arms loosens and with it, the tingling tightness she feels all over her body. Her stomach flops at the recollection. "It's just because it was unexpected."

**I'm in love with you.**  flop

**I want... more than that.**  flop

**You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.**   flop

A twinge of worry enters the periphery of her mind. Why is her body reacting like this? She brushes it away along with the fresh batch of tears that are dripping off her chin. She tells herself that her concern is just for what would happen if Roy found out.

Roy.

Man, is she grateful the film crew left a while ago!! She'd hate for him to get the wrong idea about that kiss. But, what's the RIGHT idea? Of course, she doesn't want to hurt him; doesn't want to think about what all this means for them. They're getting married in three weeks. That's what she's wanted for her entire adult life, and then some. "I don't want to lose Roy." 

As quickly as she thinks this, though, another sob finds itself wedged in her throat. As the next upsurge of emotion takes her, Pam suddenly realizes it's really not Roy she's crying over; she's crying about Jim. This realization brings another round of blubbering as its faithful companion. What if we aren't okay after this? What if we can't get passed it? She feels panicked; frozen with fear and confusion and the worry of something that feels a whole lot like loss. "Oh my gosh! I don't want to lose Jim!"

And, there it is- dawning understanding of what she's previously only allowed herself to know in fragmented portions- she loves him... she loves him! Finally, she gets it!! She can't let this be the end of their story! It should be the beginning! Her sobs have now turned a bit hysterical as laughter bubbles up in her chest and mingles with her still cascading tears.

She sees the options in front of her now and knows only she can make any of this right. For her. For Jim. For Roy, too. Continuing in the direction they were headed, merely an hour ago, wouldn't be fair to anyone involved. She's overwhelmed with a myriad of items that swiftly make their way on her mental to-do list. She's always been pragmatic; a planner. She jumps up, quickly grabbing a few sheets of pale pink heavy bond, a sheet of copier paper, and an envelope from behind her desk.

With resolute focus, she sits back down at Jim's desk, inhaling deeply and running her hands along the arms of his chair as she pushes the air all the way out of her lungs, eyes slightly bugged at the gravity of the situation the night has brought her way. Leaning forward, she picks up one of the pens sitting on top of his desk, absentmindedly bringing the chewed end up and brushing it across her lips. A wistful smile crosses her face as she leans forward, pen to paper, and begins, "Jim-..."

She feels a flush rise on her skin and the flutter of her heart as she begins to honestly uncover all she feels; all she's kept carefully under lock and key- hidden even from herself- for so very long. It's dizzying; heady. The two types of paper before her each duel for her complete attention. Instead, she wrangles them both under her control with all the multi-tasking talents she's earned from years of working at Dunder Mifflin, and with Michael Scott, in particular. She stops sporadically along the way of her paper confessional, only to add to the other sheet as her mind flits to needed items that she'll eventually check off her copy paper list. Each to-do, marked by an empty box beside it, would make any sane person anxious. And Pam's list grows past the confines of one side of the page, as one "to-do" written breeds at least three more. But it's as if the words she writes in flowing script on the pink paper have the power to nullify all those anxieties and more. With each sentence outlining her affection, her plans, her hopes for their future, she feels more emboldened; more ALIVE! Every item on the white sheet begins to feel more like a hurdle she can't wait to jump just so she can get to all the possibilities pouring into promises on the pink pages under her hand.

When she's done, both pink and white pages filled to the brim, she shoves back taking another steadying, energizing breath. She stares ahead in the room and beyond, weighing this moment of decision against all others vying for importance to her life. It has no equal. Coming back to the room, she glimpses the copier machine in front of her and swiftly rises to make a photocopy of the letter. She knows herself well enough to know that she'll want the opportunity to read and (over) analyze her words later when the newness of these emotions has dissipated to a more manageable strain. After all, this is the bravest and most honest she has ever been. It's both thrilling and terrifying. She carefully folds the original neatly into the envelope and scrolls his name on the front after sealing all her love inside. Then, carefully setting the letter in a place of prominence on his desk, she tucks in his chair.

She moves to her desk, dialing 411 to connect her to Yellow Cab, and requests a pick up from the building. Grabbing her jacket and taking her purse out of her locked drawer, she folds her copy of her declaration and slips it inside the pocket of her bag. She quickly grabs a pen and her To-Do list. Picking up her cellphone, she dials the first number programmed in while she makes her first checkmark in the empty box next to the item at the top.

"Mom? It's me. I need your help."

It’s been quite a night for Toby. He’s riding a buzz from the few drinks he’s imbibed and his handful of Casino Night wins; one in particular plasters a smile on his face: winning the hand against Michael. He’d chased that feeling for the next couple hours and was now leaving just over $200 richer than when he started. That would be some nice fun money for his trip to the beach with Sasha next weekend. He takes the stairs up from the warehouse two at a time up to grab his things before heading out for the night.

As reaches his hand toward the stairwell door and he notices excited voices in the elevator lobby. “Oh, man! I can’t believe Pam actually kissed him back!” At her name, Toby freezes. He hears what appears to be high fives followed by the sounds of Brian and Steve zipping up their gear. What are they talking about? Who did Pam kiss?! Surely they aren’t talking about Roy; that would hardly warrant this kind of excitement. His stomach lurches as he remains hidden behind the wooden door.

“It always the best when people don’t realize the camera and mics are around!”

 “Yeah, man! I’m glad it seems it’s all on the table now. It’s been so hard to not tell her what an ass that fiancé of hers is. Sucks that we can’t get even a little involved. She’d have been better off if she’d know how Jim felt about her awhile ago.” Toby’s heart begins to race. Jim?!? 

“You see what you wanna see, I guess. I can’t wait to see what’s in that letter!” The elevator dings.

“We’ll just need to get here super early tomorrow to catch Jim’s reaction. I was gonna offer to buy us a round of beers, but I think we’ll need to be on our ‘A’ game in the…” Their voices fade as the elevator doors close and the car begins to make its way back to the lobby below.

Toby remains stunned; hand still on the door nob. He can’t believe what he’d just heard. Pam and Jim kissed?!? I mean, he knew that Jim has some sort of feelings for Pam; anyone that has eyes could see that. But he never would have guessed that Pam was capable of cheating- even if Roy was a prick, at times. Toby knew he’d often put Pam on a pedestal and was now trying to reconcile all this new information with what he’d always believed about her. Having been cheated on by his own wife, he knew the damage infidelity could inflict. For that reason, he’d never be reckless enough to tell Pam of his feelings for her and would never have crossed a line by kissing her while she was engaged to someone else! Not that he’d never imagined it. Oh, how he’d imagined it- more than a few times, to be honest. And his feelings for her had blossomed even more when he saw her interacting with Sasha at the last Bring Your Kid To Work Day. Pam was the woman he would choose to be with, if it was as easy as just choosing.

Toby slowly strolls into the office and finds himself standing in front of Jim’s desk. There sits the letter; unmistakably marked by Pam’s artistic script on the face of the envelope. He feels torn. He has no ill feelings towards Jim; even considers him a friend. Up until now, he’s never looked at him as competition. But, if Pam was capable of feeling something for someone other than Roy… Why couldn’t it have been me? Maybe she just needs to know all of the options in front of her? Maybe if the playing field was leveled, he’d have a chance?

This is ridiculous. I don’t even know what the letter says. Sure, Brian and Steve think it’s hopeful for Jim, but there’s no way they could know! The envelope is sealed. She could be telling him off; that the kiss was a mistake.

The only way he could be sure was to read the letter. Toby looks around and confirms that he is absolutely alone. He picks up the envelope and turns it over in his hands. He toys with the idea of shredding it. A small amount of rationality and reason dawn on him and he quickly sets it back down. He steps back then turns and heads to the annex to grab his things.

As he begins to shut down his computer, a new email pops up from Jan. Clicking it, his confusion grows greater as he reads that Jim has requested a transfer to Dunder Mifflin’s Stamford branch. Jan has just talked with their manager, Josh. All is a go and they would like to move forward very quickly. Jim is to report to Stamford this coming Monday. In the email, Jan asks Toby to tend to the necessary paperwork first thing Friday and get Michael and Jim’s signatures. He quickly responds that he will take care of it and absentmindedly closes his computer down.

His thoughts are quickly bouncing around his mind like the ball in a pinball game. How did this fit with what he’d overheard tonight? Pam kissed him, but he was leaving? Why would he leave unless Pam rejected him? Maybe Brian and Steve missed something. As he considers this, he feels a spark of hope in his chest. If she’s not happy with Roy and is going to leave him anyway... She could be happy with me. Jim’s leaving, but I’m here! Suddenly the playing field seem a lot more even.

As he walks back into the bullpen, the remnants of alcohol in his system clearly doing more of the thinking than the braincells he possesses, he swings towards Jim’s desk. He snatches up the envelope again and before he can change his mind once more, tears through the thick paper to get to the letter inside. His heart is racing. There is no changing his mind now.

Toby laps up the words on the page. His stomach swirls sickly at the intimacy of the confessions Pam has written there. He wars with himself over the belief that he’s violating her privacy and his need to know more. He struggles to keep her upon the gilded pedestal he’s created for her in his mind, even as bile fills his throat at her expressions of love to a man other than her fiancé. Then, he comes to the end- her pleas for Jim’s patience. Her assurance that she just needs time; that she loves him, too. Where Toby previously believed there was no hope because she was marrying Roy, he now understands there is a fragile hope, but one that would never exist with Jim in the picture. Jim- who doesn’t know she’s written the letter; who could not know. He was leaving. Only one workday more. Toby could help Pam pick up the broken pieces once he’d gone. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that no healthy relationship could ever grow from this kind of omission, but at the forefront, all he can think about is the possibility of a chance with Pam. And that’s enough for him.

It’s three large strides to the shredder and then the evidence is gone. The excited buzz he’d chased all night is back. He smiles and whistles to himself as he leaves the office. Tomorrow, he’ll start the paperwork that will bring him closer to a world of possibilities.

He sits in his car and stares out the windshield in front of him. His focus blurs out from a spot of dirt he’d missed when he cleaned it last. How can one moment hold all love, joy, and glory, and at the same time, all the pain and heartbreak you could ever imagine? The wonder of the moment turned immediately bleak when he’d asked, “You’re really gonna marry him?” and she’d nodded her head in response. In that instant, something switched on in him- or maybe it was off. Hell, it was probably both; he felt so jumbled and confused about everything in the past half hour.

He’d gone to get his messenger bag, but upon opening the inner door heard her voice. He didn’t see her at her desk, but she sounded close. Realizing she was on the phone he’d become hyper-aware of the emotions in her voice. Her “I don’t know mom; he’s my best friend,” followed by, “Yeah, I think I am,” had him filling in the blanks with what he wished she was answering. He felt confident she’d just admitted to her mom that she thought she had feelings for him. His body went on autopilot. He had to be near her. As he moved in the direction of her voice, he was further emboldened by the sight of her at his desk, his phone cord wrapped around her hand. With a sense of urgency he strode a few more steps and she was suddenly in his arms and his lips were suddenly on hers. And the heavens opened up and angels sang and fireworks exploded, all at once. When her hands moved up to his shoulders and her fingers found themselves tangled in his hair, he knew he hadn’t misunderstood a single thing and his heart absolutely soared!

But, she’d pulled away and his wings were immediately clipped and he came crashing back down to Earth. His resolved, “Okay,” and pulling away from her in every sense of the word became the only thing that could protect his heart from further humiliation- especially with HER as a witness. Up until that moment, self-preservation had always been a good idea- distance from her, don’t expose your heart, focus on the friendship, etc. But now, self-preservation was required, or he wouldn’t survive this; he knew that.

He turns the engine, but then immediately kills it. He wars with himself for a quick minute, then pulls out his phone and types out a text to Jan. He hesitates to hit send and looks out his rear-view mirror at the entrance to the Dunder Mifflin offices. Maybe she’ll change her mind again. Maybe she’ll come looking. He looks at the clock. 10:28pm. I’ll wait until 10:40. If she comes out the doors by then, that’s my sign that I should stay and fight for this. If not, I send the text and move on. He feels pathetic that there’s still a part of him that doesn’t believe he’s misunderstood anything, even though it’s a freckle of its former self now. He places his phone face-side down on the passenger seat next to him.

At 10:38pm the front door opens and his heart jumps into his throat! He swings free his car door, but when two of the Vance Refrigeration employees are revealed in the doorway, he slams his door hard. “FUCK!!” he shouts into the enclosed space. Why do I keep doing this to myself? He chastises himself for playing the fool again, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing the countdown with a seed of hope. He even lets 10:40pm come and go with the hope of just two more minutes. And then 10:45pm hits. He realizes this really is a lost cause. While taking a deep breath, and one more peek at the mirror, he reverses the car and slowly makes his way toward the exit. One last glance at the empty doorway and his vision blurs slightly as he feels a sharp pain in his heart. The final fragment of hope he’d been clinging to fully leaves him, trickling down his cheek as a solitary tear. It’s really over. He reaches across to the seat beside him and once again grabs his phone.

SEND.

Before he can even turn onto the street, a response dings. Woah, that was quick! He looks at the text and takes a steadying breath. It all feels REALLY real now. God! How am I going to make it through tomorrow?! It’s bad enough that I have to see her after what just happened, but how the hell am I going to tell her?!? He thinks to himself that maybe he won’t; maybe he’ll just let her find out at the same time as the rest of the office. He glances at his reflection in the rearview. Coward. Shaking his head at himself, he makes a left hand turn out of the parking lot. It doesn’t matter how she hears it, really. And like it or not (and he’s still not sure if he does), he leaves for Stanford this weekend.  He’s moving on.

Friday morning, she called in sick and told Roy she had really bad cramps and needed a day off with no responsibility beyond refilling her hot water bottle and watching trashy soap operas. Sending him off to work with a packed lunch of his favorite food to be sure he wouldn’t come home midday, she waited 15 extra minutes to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything and was safely at work. Then, Pam jumped from the bed, brushed her teeth, and quickly threw on a t-shirt, jeans, and her white keds. Full of nervous energy, she put a couple pieces of bread in the toaster and started to pour herself some coffee. On second thought, I really don’t need to feel more anxious than I already do. She dumped the dark liquid into the sink and rinsed her mug, refilling it with water instead. Four gulps later and she’d drained the cup and began filling it once more just as her toast popped up.

She moved to the living room and sat rigidly on the edge of the couch cushion- a half-eaten slice of toast in one hand and the mug of water in the other. Am I REALLY doing this? Uprooting everything I know based on one kiss? She knew that was a vast oversimplification but still wondered momentarily if this was a half-cocked idea. She chewed on the last bite of her toast and absentmindedly brushed off the crumbs from her hand onto her jeans. Looking around the room, she took stock of more than 10 years of memories and plans for a life together. She noticed her art supplies filling three Rubbermaid totes stacked in the corner and covered in dust- a bag of some of Roy’s too-small shirts thrown atop that waited for her next trip to Goodwill. On the coffee table were the partially completed guest favors for the wedding. Last week, she’d moved them in from the kitchen table with the hope that Roy would help put them together if he could watch his game while they worked. That didn’t pan out and there they sat; a visual reminder of the standoff they’d had about his lack of involvement in wedding planning and prep and her lack of understanding about how hard he works all day.

These were disappointing things, to be sure, but she and Roy had many good times, too, she reminded herself. She glanced at the framed photos on the bookshelf. One of them of just after the homecoming game senior year- Roy still in his uniform and Pam wearing red and gold face paint and a giant smile. Another of him unlocking the door to this apartment the day they’d moved in together. One in front of the tree that first Christmas on their own. That was the first (and last) time Roy had helped decorate. Every year since he’d told her it wasn’t his thing and he preferred how she made it look without his help. She scanned the room and realized there was no memorabilia of the two of them from at least the last five years. Had all our good times been that long ago?  If the room was an indication, it appeared that was indeed the case. Pam silently confirmed to herself that this was the right decision.

Helene’s arrival was marked by her clever rapping upon the door. Pam’s parents had taken Pam and her sister, Penny, to see the New York Philharmonic when they were little girls and The Blue Danube became their favorite song. Since then, Helene would rap her knuckles to the melody whenever she knocked: when Pam was a teenager and the knock was on the bathroom door to warn that she was about to leave without her and she needed to hurry up; on her bedroom door when she’d heard Pam crying after a bad date and wanted to comfort her; or now, when she knew that Pam was on the verge of the biggest directional change of her life so far. The rapping brought comfort and made Pam smile, immediately calming her nerves.

She raced to the door and upon opening it, wrapped her arms around her mom’s neck, falling into her with a gentle sob, “Mom!” as Helene righted her balance before they both went toppling over on Pam’s front stoop.

“Oh, honey! It’ll all be okay. Just you wait and see. It will be okay,” she soothed as she held her and stroked the back of her hair. Pam nodded into her shoulder and with a very unladylike sniffle, pulled away and invited her mom inside.

They had talked late into the evening the night before, Pam walking through the apartment complex as she unfolded the somewhat unbelievable events of Casino Night. She’d shared her letter and all the fears and hopes she now held close to her heart. Her mom acknowledged her own previously secret belief that there was more between Pam and Jim than Pam was willing to see. She also shared her motherly intuition that things were not as they had been between Pam and Roy- for even longer than Jim had been in the picture. She just hadn’t wanted to interfere. She asked Pam a dozen different ways if this was what she really wanted and by the end of the call, Pam felt grounded and even more sure of her choices.

She got her mom a glass of water and refilled her mug for the third time. They sat side by side on the couch, turned towards one another with one leg tucked under the other and one arm propped up on the back of the couch, hand resting along their neck- a mirror of one another’s stance. They both took a deep breath at the same time and then both giggled at the undeniability of both their relation and connection to one another.

“Thanks for coming, Mom,” Pam started, with a watery smile. “I know all of this is putting a huge burden on you and dad and I’m so sorry.”

Helene scootched closer to Pam and put her hand on her shoulder. “There is nothing to apologize for Pam! You’re listening to your heart and I am so very proud of you. It can be impossibly hard to make a choice contrary to the safety and predictability of what one knows and has accepted for themselves. But you’re doing it and you’re doing it before you’re tied to him for the rest of your life.” Pam wondered if the glint of sadness in her mom’s eyes was about more than just Pam’s choices. She was pulled from that thought with Helene’s exuberant voice. “So, where do we begin?”

Pam pulled her To Do List out of her bag and began to run down the things she’d already added. First were the big items- get a place, a car, a new bank account, and pack up her stuff; and of course the biggest one- tell Roy. They talked about logistics. Pam’s father couldn’t join them today due to work but was driving out early tomorrow morning. He wanted to be part of the apartment and car searches. So, today she and Helene would pack her things and move those that would fit in the car to Helene’s hotel room for now. Once Roy got home from work, Pam would tell him. Thinking about it made her stomach flop uncomfortably. She wasn’t really scared of him or what his reaction might be but was still not looking forward to the conversation. She felt comforted to know that her mom would be outside in her car the whole time. It felt like the lifeline of courage she needed to take this big step.  

“Have you heard anything from Jim?” Helene asked gently as she brought the boxes and packing supplies (that she’d thankfully had the forethought to bring) into the bedroom.

Pam looked at the clock. Jim had likely read the letter by now. “No, not yet,” She rationalized that he was probably just trying to honor her request for patience and time. Still, there was a small part of her that had hoped he’d acknowledge that he got the letter. She shrugged it off, reminding herself of how many items were on her To-Do list that needed to be marked off before anything could even be possible with Jim.

She continued to pack her toiletries, shoes, and jewelry in their respective boxes, aware that she felt a sort of flatness wash over her. There was a lump in her throat that felt sort of like she wanted to cry, but she didn’t feel any emotion connected with it. Maybe it’s just dust? She rolled her eyes at her own excuse then accepted that she felt a bit disappointed in herself that she felt mostly numb about preparing to leave the life she’d helped build for a decade. Am I just heartless? She thought about this for a moment and settled on the fact that she was just in work mode. Practicality didn’t lend much space for emotion and things needed to get done. The To Do list was far too long; no time for a breakdown now. She was sure that it would come later, anyway.

Around lunch time, with Helene’s car loaded to the brim, the ladies headed to the hotel with their first round of boxes. After running to the local credit union and opening her own accounts, they grabbed a quick lunch at Subway and headed back to finish packing. The furniture she wanted to take would have to wait until her dad got here and she had a place move it into. Besides, she really needed to talk with Roy about how to divide their shared things. By the time Pam and Helene were done, all the boxes of family heirlooms and all her books, art supplies, and personal effects were stacked in tidy piles along one full wall of her mom’s hotel room. As Pam checked off two more boxes on her To-Do list, she glanced at the clock. Her heartrate instantly quickened. It was almost 4:30pm and Pam needed to head back soon to have the talk with Roy. Wondering if she’d heard anything from Jim about the letter and hoping that an encouraging word might buoy her for the coming conversation, she checked her phone. No messages and no texts. Disappointment and worry lingered in her periphery. I hope there’s nothing wrong. Oh, God! What if he’s changed his mind? Before she could work herself into a frenzy, she shook her body, stomping in place to work it out. I’ll deal with that later. I need to focus on the task at hand. It was time to talk to Roy.

Helene parked down the block where they planned to meet up when she was done talking to Roy. Pam felt badly that she had no idea how long this would take, but Helene had brushed her off telling her to make it as long or fast as she and Roy needed. “After all,” she said, “I brought a book and will be up to my eyeballs in the most recent struggles of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark.” Pam smiled at her mom’s forever interest in young adult fiction and started to open the car door.

“Pam?” Her mom spoke gently and with clear emotion in her voice. Pam turned towards her. “I’m quite proud of you, you know?” She reached out and stroked Pam’s cheek, catching tears with her fingers and wiping them from Pam’s cheekbone. “You are so very brave.”

Pam held her mom’s wrist and kissed the palm of her hand. With one more sobering breath, she exited the car and then leaned down to look inside the vehicle once more. “I love you mom.”

Now 5:10pm, she anticipated that Roy would be home at any moment. She couldn’t sit still. She paced up and down the hallway, practicing in her head what she planned to say. She sat on the arm of the couch- knee bouncing a spastic rhythm and trying to expel the unease from her body. At just past a quarter of the hour, she heard the door nob turn and Roy walked in.

“Hey Pammy! How ya feeling? Ahh… are you okay? What’s wrong?” She must have looked a real mess for him to notice.

Well, it’s now or never. “Roy, we need to talk.”

Overall, it had gone a lot better than she’d anticipated. At first, it was a nightmare. He’d thought she just wanted to postpone the wedding seeming to not understand that she was ending the relationship completely. Once clarified, he was angry and defensive. She pointed out how much they’d grown apart- also how little they’d grown at all- and asked him if he could even remember any truly happy times they’d shared in the past several years. Of course, he asked if there was someone else. Pam skirted the answer but assured him her decision was based on their stale relationship and lack of partnership. And that was all true.

After about an hour of arguing, bargaining, and flat out begging, Roy had finally admitted that he was somewhat relieved; that he’d realized he really didn’t want to get married, even though he loved her. He didn’t want the relationship to end, though, and asked again if she thought they could just take a break and work back towards one another. Pam soothingly let him know, this time with tears in her eyes, that she would always love him and the life they had shared together, but that the healthiest thing for both of them was to move on. They both sat facing one another and just cried for some time. Pam’s muscle memory wanted to reach out and hold him; let him hold her. But she knew that would be the worst thing for both of them right now. The break needed to be a clean one.

Pam let Roy know she’d moved her things out and they made plans on how to divide up the furniture and finances. She said that she and her dad would be by tomorrow afternoon with a truck to get the furniture and let him know that her mom was going to make the calls to cancel the wedding and get as much of their deposit money back as possible. They would also call the guests and let them know. Roy asked that he be the one to contact all of his family on the guest list; he’d start by telling his brother, Kenny, later tonight when they met up at Poor Richard’s for drinks. Once the logistics were organized, they gave each other a frighteningly awkward side hug and Pam left.

She returned to Helene’s car red-nosed and weeping, but relieved. Her mom pulled a tissue out of the glovebox and handed it to her. “Do you want to talk about it, honey?”

“Not now; maybe later,” Pam choked out as she fished a pen and the To Do list out of her purse for the umpteenth time that day. She placed a fat checkmark in the box next to ‘End Things With Roy’, folded the paper once more, and returned it to her bag until tomorrow.  

As Helene drove the familiar streets through town, a tremendous wave of relief swept over Pam. She smiled a secret smile and snuck her phone out of her bag. Hmm.. still nothing from Jim. There was a tightness in her chest that she felt far too exhausted to examine just now. Instead, she opted to text him. It won’t hurt to keep him updated. We’ll talk all the details  Monday when we see one another at work anyway. She typed out “It’s over.” Hoping the nod to her progress would bring confirmation of her commitment to the words of the letter. Smiling, she hit Send.

The blare of his alarm clock sends a sharp pain through Jim’s head. He fumbles around, eyes squinted closed, knocking glass bottles out of his way until his palm finds its target and stops the screaming echo that is torturing him. I DEFINITELY should have stopped on beer number two. As he sits up and scrubs his hand over his face, fragments of last night begin to fall into place.

He’d made it home after Casino Night with a heavy and numb feeling throughout his body, like a dam holding his emotions from the breaking point. But locking the door behind him, the swell overtook him and he’d been flooded once again. He’d crumbled onto the couch and just let go, grateful that his roommate, Mark, was away for the night with his girlfriend because he could not stop the waves that were coming out of him. After about twenty minutes of snot filled sobs and ruminations of self-pity, Jim had decided that he’d much preferred the numb feeling he’d experienced for much of the drive home. He’d gone to the kitchen to grab a couple beers from the refrigerator and the basketball shaped bottle opener magnet that his brother gave him last Christmas.

Jim had flopped down on the couch once again and popped the top off the first beer. His thoughts were drowned in regrets. Why would I think there was ever a chance? People don’t stay engaged to someone if they have feelings for someone else. That shit only happens in chick-flicks. I ruined a perfectly great friendship tonight and for what?? He started thinking about what was next for him. His reflections returned to how he was going to tell Pam he was leaving. He wasn’t sure he could handle being in close proximity to her this soon, so it seemed like telling her one on one was out. But, he still felt badly about her finding out at the same time as everyone else. Maybe I’ll send her an email or write a little note?

Jim had brought the bottle back up to his lips only to find there wasn’t any beer left. He’d reached for the second bottle and took a big pull of the amber liquid letting its coolness bring a fractional relief to his system. Maybe the timing for Stamford is saving my ass. I need a fresh start somewhere there are no memories of her- her auburn curls, the intoxicating smell of her vanilla hand lotion, the way she bites the tip of her tongue when she’s trying to contain a laugh… Images of Pam had flickered like a slideshow through his mind and Jim’s emotions had run wild. He bounced quickly from self-pity to anger, regret to self-loathing, embarrassment, depression, insecurity… He’d gotten up, grabbed the remainder of the six-pack from the fridge, and headed upstairs to drink in the solitude of his bedroom. As humiliated and desperate as he’d felt tonight, and as broken beyond repair as he’d believed he was, there had still been a small part of him that just yearned for her. The only way he’d reckoned he could solve that problem he had lined up in front of him on his desk like little soldiers. And he drank on.

Now, in the morning light, he was feeling it. ALL of it. But he had to go to work. And he had to face her again. And this was going to be torture. The hangover certainly didn’t help things. Jim ran his fingers through his always unruly hair and went to the kitchen to start some coffee. He downed several glasses of water and two Tylenol and then hopped in the shower, hoping the steam would dissipate the thoughts and worries of his brain, as much as it did the air around him.

It was still early. He figured he could get in before everyone else and maybe have a moment with Pam to talk with her about his transfer before it became public knowledge. Even if he chickened out, he could start going through his desk to sort through what was getting tossed and what was going with him. He pulled into the parking lot and noticed the documentary crew van was already there. That was strange, as Steve and Brian usually came in about an hour later- around the time Pam arrived.

Jim moved steadily through the parking lot, trying not to pay attention to the phantom images of last night’s confession as he passed by the spot where they’d stood. He realized, as he pressed the elevator button, that he had held his breath on the journey there from the car; the tightness in his chest causing him to take a gasp of air before returning to his regular patterned breathing.

Once Jim got in the office, he noticed Brian and Steve. He was a bit disappointed that they were there if, he was honest. If I want a chance to talk to Pam alone, now I’m going to have to get creative. Their gear was already set up for a day of work, the boom mic laying across Stanley and Phyllis’s desks. The team stood close, arms crossed in front of their chests and deep in discussion. When they saw Jim, they jumped and then eyed him in a way that made him pretty sure they’d been talking about him. That’s weird.

“Hey, guys! What brings you in so early?” Brian and Steve both responded at the same time, drowning out the other. After an awkward chuckle, Brian offered again, “We were hoping to get some B Roll footage and thought coming in early would be less disruptive to all y’alls day.” Steve nodded beside him. “How are you, man? You’re in awful early, too.”

Jim thought about it for a minute and figured he may as well let them know. “Yeah, man. Yeah, ah, today’s actually my last day here. I’ve, uh, been promoted and am transferring to Connecticut. I start Monday.” Jim rubbed the back of his neck. Then, he tried to make the smile on his face behave to give the full impression of someone delighted about his new advancement. He was pretty sure he failed and rubbed the back of his neck once more.

It seemed to Jim that the looks of shock and disbelief from the doc team were barely contained by the smiles on their faces. “Wow! That’s, ah, great news! Congratulations!” Steve replied though the last word felt like it was meant to have a question mark on the end. Brian added, “Very cool! Ah, when did this happen?”

Jim found it impossible to recall the timeline of events from last night without the resulting pain in his heart and flop of his stomach. “Oh, um, I guess it’s been in the works for a couple weeks…  but the trigger was pulled late last night.” Jim was feeling awkward so he put down his coat and messenger bag and excused himself saying he needed to find a box to pack his things. A tiny chorus of, “Sure!” and, “Of course!” filled the bullpen as Jim moved towards the storage closet.

Before he could quite escape the room, Brian inelegantly asked, “Have you, uh, told… anyone… yet?” Jim’s stomach flopped again, and his heartrate sped up. He slowed just a beat and answered, “No. No, not yet.” And left the room. Jim sensed something a little off with the guys’ interactions with him but figured that- between his nerves about seeing and talking to Pam and the hangover- he was probably making something out of nothing.

He was distracted and mid desk-emptying when his attention was interrupted by the door opening. Dwight came barging through with a sneer in Jim’s general direction. Jim looked at the clock and realized the workday was about to start and Pam was not yet here. He was confused; Pam was always early and never missed work. He thought perhaps she felt embarrassed about last night, as well. Maybe she’d planned to come in at the very last moment today to avoid awkward contact with me. Dwight brought him out of his train of thought. “What is the meaning of this mess!?!” he barked at Jim as he gesticulated at the piles on Jim’s desk.

Jim just shrugged his shoulders. “Spring cleaning.”

Dwight’s nostrils flared, “Fact! It’s nearly Summer. You are late to the task.” When Jim just fixed a smile his way, Dwight finished with a huff, “Just be sure that your things stay off my desk, at all times!”

As the rest of his office mates started filing in for the day, Jim felt nostalgic about memories he’d made with each of them. He was going to miss them- well, most of them anyway. Jim was caught up in these memories each time the door opened; all the while his heart bounced in his chest each time it wasn’t Pam. When Toby walked in, his eyes caught Jim’s but anxiously looked away. He hurried past Jim uneasily, mumbling something about paperwork for the transfer. Jim didn’t quite catch what he’d said, so got up and followed him to his desk in the annex. Jim started, “Hey, man. Did you say something about the transfer? Do you already know?”

Toby didn’t acknowledge him, instead fiddled with his briefcase and coat. Then he sat down and shook his mouse aggressively as he waited for his computer to start. He continued his hummingbird-like movements and without looking Jim in the eye, finally responded, “Oh, yes. Jan… err… emailed me last night. I’ll get the paperwork together and then have you and Michael sign it. Have you, er, let… Michael know yet?”

Shit! Michael! In all the panic last night and the worrying about telling Pam, it hadn’t occurred to him that the conversation with Michael might be as difficult as telling Pam, just for different reasons. He exhaled an exasperated breath. “Not yet. I’ll try to catch him when he comes in, if that’s okay with you. I think it should come from me first.” He rubbed the back of his neck in another attempt to self-sooth.

“Sounds good!” Toby responded in a curt and dismissive tone.

“Hey, man. Are we alright?” Toby tensed. “I know I didn’t tell you directly and, as your friend, I realize that sucks. I’m sorry if there’s any hard feelings. I just need a change and the promotion is a nice one. I’ll still keep in touch though, man.”

Toby turned and finally looked in Jim’s direction, even if not at his face. “No, we’re good. Just trying to get this all put together for you.” Toby smiled, but Jim noticed it didn’t come close to reaching his eyes.

“Ok. Cool.”

Jim returned to his desk and was disappointed to see that Pam was still not there. Before he could wonder more about what that might mean, Michael burst through the main door hollering, “Good Morning!” to the room. A weak echo of, “Good Morning,” responded back. Jim knew he needed to talk with Michael before he looked at his emails so he started to make his way towards Michael’s office. Almost to the doorway, Michael popped his head back out and shouted, “Ryan! You’re manning the phones and reception today! Our little Pam-a-lama-ding-dong has called out sick.” Jokingly elbowing Jim in the ribs Michael said, under his breath, “Probably too much alcohol at our little shindig last night, ya think?!”

Jim starred at him blankly. All thoughts, save one, dropping from his - Pam won’t be here today. She won’t know I’m leaving. I won’t have to say goodbye to her…. I won’t GET to say goodbye to her. Jim’s stomach lurched and his head pounded. He felt the sensations of his hangover return with double the force.

“What can I do ya for, Slim-Jim?” Michael said with a hard pat on Jim’s shoulder. “Have a seat!” Jim moved robotically to the chair in front of Michael’s desk as the door was closed behind him. Michael rattled on about this and that, but through Jim’s dazed existence, it was hard to follow. He closed his eyes to make the world stop spinning and took three deep breaths. At that, Michael noticed that Jim was not himself. “Maybe you, my friend, imbibed beyond your limit last night, too? Can I get you some water? Coffee?” His boss had come around his desk and perched up on the corner, eyeing Jim with concern.

“Yeah, um, probably,” Jim responded weakly. “I’ll be okay.”

Michael grabbed his oversized “World’s Best Boss” mug off his desk and went to his office door. “Can someone fill this mug for me?” he shouted into the bullpen. Dwight bounded from his desk shouting that he would take care of it, completely unaware of the lack of interest from anyone else in the room.

Michael handed Jim the full mug of water and returned to the chair behind his desk. “What’s going on, buddy?”

Jim started by telling Michael how much he has learned from him and what a great boss he’s been. He decided to stroke his ego a bit more and added words of gratitude for his friendship, as well. Michael beamed at him and tears filled the corners of his eyes. Jim took a deep breath and continued. He was as gentle as possible, sharing that he’d been offered a promotion and had accepted; that he would be transferring to the Stamford branch.

Michael sat in stunned silence. Jim’s palms started to sweat. I don’t think I can take any more drama. Michael began to cry and begged him to stay. He sobbed through a litany of memories and “great times with my best friend”. He laid it on thick. It didn’t escape Jim that Michael’s  response, as much as it annoyed him, would have been music to his ears coming from Pam. He dreamed of a moment like this with her. With Michael? Not so much.  As Michael’s outburst took a turn into anger and resentment, Jim forced himself to stay and be present, occasionally interjecting soothing words and restating his previous praises. The whole while, Jim’s fingernails were pressed into his palms, leaving little crescent indentations in their wake. 

Thankfully, Toby interrupted with a knock on the door. He entered the room, laden with copied papers marked here and there with tiny post-its where signatures would be needed. Michael’s response was visceral. “Oh Toby knows?!?! Before ME, Toby knows?? TOBY!?!!!” Michael looked from Jim to Toby and back in disgust.

Jim tried to apologize and told him Jan had sent an email to everyone at the same time. Of course, Michael turned that into a judgment on his ability to do his job and read emails and so began filling the empty space with more accusations and condemnations of Jim’s choice. Michael spat at Jim. “I am not signing those!” “Traitor!” “Bearer of all of the most horrible news!” he lashed at Toby. Toby meekly interjected that his words were hurtful and let him know that Jan needed the papers today since the transfer was happening so quickly. “What do you mean- quickly?!” Michael glared at Toby.

“Well… I mean… you know… Michael, today is Jim’s last day.” At this news, Michael went completely ballistic and demanded they both leave his office immediately.

Jim stood and told Toby he’d sign whatever was needed once he had Michael’s signatures. He returned to his desk and continued to clean up his client files, marking each one with the sales associate he thought should handle the account.

It took most of the day and a phone call from Jan to get the signatures needed from Michael. At about 2pm, Michael approached Jim’s desk, stack in hand, and brusquely asked him if he wanted a going away party. Jim shook his head and started to say, “No thanks,” but Michael had already turned on his heels and gone back to his office, slamming his door behind him.

Dwight’s ears perked up at Michael’s comment. “A going away party?” He asked with the excitement in his eyes of a child on Christmas morning. “Are YOU going away?!?!” He was practically vibrating in his seat.

Just then, Toby entered the bullpen and looked Jim’s way. Jim lifted the stack of papers as Toby nodded mouthing, “Do you want to…?” Jim gave a quick affirmative bob of his head and stood. Clearing his throat, Jim said, “Hey, Everyone! Can I get your attention, please?” I wanted to let you know that I have accepted a promotion at the Stamford branch and today is my last day.” There were small gasps and whispers throughout the room. He glanced at Dwight who wore a huge smile, tears of happiness brimming his eyes. Jim continued, “I know it’s a bit shocking, but I will stay in touch.” Several of his co-workers rose and came over to hug him, shake his hand, and congratulate him. “You’ve got my email and my new extension will be in the directory. I’ve enjoyed working with you all very much,” he shared as the group began to disperse. Phyllis, the last to head back to her desk, asked him how Pam had taken the news and if that was why she hadn’t come in today. When he told her that Pam didn’t know, her brow creased with worry.

Brian and Steve asked for a final talking head at the Scranton branch. They let him know that the producers had set up a smaller documentary team that would follow him at Stamford since he was still under contract with them. They asked him questions about his decision to leave and what was next for him. There were several times where Jim felt like they were prodding him for something that he didn’t quite understand, but he figured it was probably just the undercurrent of emotion that had been flowing all day. They probably want me to talk about Pam. Well, THAT ain’t gonna happen.

A little while later, Jim handed all the signed documents to Toby, who again didn’t seem to want to make eye contact with him. What is that all about, anyway? Toby offered for Jim to leave early as all his work was wrapped up and his personal stuff was packed. “You’ll probably want to get a jump on packing up your place, anyway!” Toby encouraged.

“Yeah.” Jim glanced once more at reception willing Pam to have suddenly arrived. He hated leaving loose ends, especially with her. Though, he supposed, the ends were pretty much severed last night anyway.

Jim grabbed his coat and bag and, with the banker box of his things resting on his hip, gently knocked on Michael’s door. “Go away,” said Michael’s muffled voice. Jim opened the unlocked door anyway. Michael lifted his head off his desktop fixing a glare at Jim. 

“Michael, I’ll be in touch, man.” Silence. “You really are a great boss.”

“Okay, whatever. See ya never.” Michael responded and dramatically plopped his forehead back on his desk. Jim closed the door behind him and looked around the office one last time before heading to the elevator.