He tossed his keys onto the coffee table and made his way to the fridge for a beer. He sank down onto the couch and took a long sip, only looking up when his roommate padded down the stairs.

"Didn't you go on a booze cruise tonight? You can't tell me you didn't get wasted."

"Not nearly enough." His roommate shrugged, taking a glass of water upstairs.

As he sat in the dark finishing one beer and then another, he knew he shouldn't call her. She was happy with Roy, he could see that. At least most of the time. It was silly, but Michael's words of advice were counteracting his instincts to leave things the way they were.

He picked up the phone and let it dial her cell. He waited not-so-patiently through two rings, four. On the fifth, her voice mail picked up: "This is Pam's cell phone. Leave a message and I'll call you back. Thanks."

His throat was dry as he listened to her voice. He blinked, realizing it had beeped, he needed to say something. "I would save the receptionist," he blurted out. "I know that makes no sense to you, but Michael's analogy about how ships and a business were alike? He asked me if the boat was sinking, who I would save. I told him the customer. But the customer would be the last person I save. I don't give a damn about the customer. I would save you. You. I care about you and I think you get me. You said tonight that sometimes you don't get Roy, but you get me. Maybe you can't see it, but you do. I don't know what I was going to say out there tonight, but…I'll see you on Monday, Pam." He pressed end, held it down until the faint glow from his phone turned off, and he was in the dark again.