Jim spent the next few hours re-reading Pam's note every chance he got. He had to return to work, but he read it a few times in the car on the way there, and then he took it inside with him and read it in the men's room twice over the next few hours. He couldn't risk reading it at his desk. Experience had taught him that there was no way something like that would escape Dwight's notice. But he kept it in his pocket, and absently fingered it a few times during his sales calls.

He realized he was thinking about it once while sort of staring off into space in Karen's direction. She caught him looking and smiled, but then she looked confused when, instead of smiling back, Jim knitted his forehead in confusion and turned back to his monitor.

He had no idea how he was supposed to react to his meeting with Marsha. The logical thing of course, would be to go confront Pam about it. But what would he even say to her? He pictured himself getting angry with her for writing him notes instead of just talking to him. Why hadn't she ever been able to be open with him when he had literally opened his entire heart to her? He had laid everything on the line, and she didn't even have the courage to have a simple conversation anymore? It infuriated him, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now. If he tried talking to Pam about it, Karen would inevitably find out and that would only lead to another long series of late-night talks. The logical solution just wasn't possible quite yet.

And besides, he also had to consider the other letters Marsha had mentioned. When he was leaving the coffee shop, she had given him a look that suggested she knew much more about his situation than she'd expressed. It was possible she even knew about his confession to Pam. He couldn't believe Pam would have divulged such private information to a stranger, but Marsha had said that Pam didn't even know she had them, so the idea that Marsha knew everything couldn't be dismissed so easily.

Not that it really mattered how much Marsha knew. It was just a little disconcerting. He had always thought of that night as theirs and only theirs. And the idea that it was being considered--or maybe even discussed--by the cleaning lady, of all people, just didn't sit well with him.

He was still thinking about his meeting with Marsha as he made dinner that night. Marsha's deal had been ridiculous; he wasn't about to write Pam a letter that would be read by someone he had only met once in a coffee shop. And after all, he couldn't trust Marsha not to give the letter to Pam. She might be a very sweet person, or she might be a creepy psychopath. Either way, it just wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

Lying in bed later, it finally came to him. He couldn't accept Marsha's offer, he knew that, but maybe he could make her a counter-offer that would satisfy them both. It was late, but he switched the light back on and started digging around in the boxes that were stacked in his closet. Pulling out an old cardboard box, he ripped off the duct tape and checked the contents. Yes, he thought, this could work perfectly.

-----

When Marsha entered the office on Saturday night, she knew this was another one of those nights when she would have to be quick. Her co-workers were right behind her, and she had a lot to do.

For the first time in weeks, she bypassed the reception area and instead went straight to Jim's desk.

First things first, she thought, pulling a plain white envelope from her bag and slipping it under Jim's keyboard. Then she checked Jim's garbage can and was simultaneously relieved and frankly a little surprised to find a similar envelope addressed to her. She very much wanted to open it right then, but she knew that if she did so, she might not get a chance to check Pam's garbage before everyone else arrived. Reluctantly, she slipped the envelope from Jim into her pocket and hurried to Pam's garbage can.

As her gloved hand sifted through discarded copies and used packaging, she thought perhaps there wouldn't be anything this time. But right as Henni and the others were walking in, she saw one. She managed to turn so her co-workers wouldn't see her fishing Pam's letter out of the trash, and as they began grumbling about the disgusting state of the men's bathroom she pocketed Pam's letter with a satisfied smile.

As soon as she got home she ripped open the envelope Jim had left her. It contained two pieces of paper. The first was a note in Jim's handwriting.

Marsha,

I'm sorry that I walked out on you yesterday, but I think I was justified in being a little upset. I still don't think you really understand what's going on between me and Pam, but that's between the two of us.

I know I said I couldn't accept your offer, but I really would like to see more of those letters from Pam, and I think you were right to contact me about them since they're addressed to me. As it stands, I'd like to propose something a little different. If you will give me a letter from Pam each time you come in, I am prepared to offer you another letter in return.

Ever since I was little my mom has been making me write one letter, every year on my birthday, to the girl of my dreams. I know it sounds corny but I was hoping I could trade you one of those letters for one of Pam's. I made a copy of the first one, so you could see what they're like.

If that's okay with you, go ahead and keep this copy and I'll expect another letter from Pam sometime next week.

It really was nice to meet you, even if the circumstances were a little strange.

Thanks,

Jim Halpert

Marsha pulled the other piece of paper out of Jim's envelope and smiled as she read a typical ten-year-old's version of a love letter. Jim's mother was either very sentimental or had a really good sense of humor. The letter was typed, and Marsha figured Jim must have gone over it to correct any spelling or grammar mistakes.

Hm... She knew she shouldn't do it. But Jim hadn't specifically told her not to. It wasn't technically part of their deal. And this would definitely hurry things along, which was really the whole reason she'd gotten herself into this mess. With a sneaky little smile she stuck Jim's dream girl letter back in her bag and then turned her attention to the one Pam had left.

Dear Jim,

Why won't you let me play with you anymore? If you're pulling another prank on Dwight then I really wish you would tell me. It's not like I'm suddenly in love with my job or anything. I still get bored. I still need you to revive me. I thought we had a deal. Fine whatever. You've been in a weird mood all day anyway. I guess I'll just have to have fun by myself.

Speaking of which: did you know Angela's planning a christening party for her next litter of cats? Seriously. She invited me. I think I might actually go though. I mean, Angela's really not that bad. It's not like it's Meredith asking me to go bar-hopping with her. Does it count as bar-hopping if you never make it out of the first bar?

Anyways, I don't know why you're avoiding me, but since you are I guess I'll just have to talk to you in this letter instead. Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we had stayed friends after you left? If we had, I wonder if you would still have started dating Karen. Not that it makes a difference now, of course. But I wish that we had talked more while you were there. And not just because I missed you like crazy. (Even though I did.) Seriously, that one phone call made my month. I had pretty much given up hope of ever hearing your voice again and then magically, one day there you were, and it was like nothing had changed. It meant so much to me.

But I also wish we had talked then because I think it could have been really good for us to have a little time to figure out what we wanted out of our relationship at that point, and to do it without having to see each other at work the next day. As much as I have always loved having you around some things are just easier to do at a distance.

But maybe it was better that we took a little break from each other. I know I needed some time to come to terms with what happened and to sort of re-invent myself a little bit. You probably didn't notice, but I think I changed a lot while you were gone. And not just the new car and apartment and fiancée-less lifestyle either. I mean, I feel like I changed as a person.

It's funny, every time I say something like that to my Mom, she always tells me that I'm really not as different as I'd like to think I am. I guess maybe that's true. I don't know. I used to talk to you about this stuff, but now...

Well, it's getting late so I'd better go. I hope you're okay, whatever the mood is about.

Love you,

Marsha set Pam's letter with the rest of them in the blue box where she kept them all, and then tried to fall asleep. She couldn't believe what these letters had done to her since she first found them. She felt like Pam's latest letter described the way that she was changing too--like she had changed "as a person." Especially when she thought about what she was planning to do with Jim's letter.

-----

Jim arrived early on Monday morning. He wanted to see if Marsha had responded to his letter yet. He had checked with Pam, who confirmed that the cleaning crew only came into the office twice a week: Wednesday and Saturday nights. She had given him a curious smile when he asked, and Jim knew she probably thought he was planning another prank and wanted in on his scheme. But that smile at that time had been a little too much for him, considering what was really going on, so he'd just turned back to his desk.

He walked out of the elevator, down the hall and into the office, wondering if Marsha would accept his offer and perhaps let him see more of Pam's letters. He couldn't expect that until Thursday at the earliest, but the mere possibility was enough to keep him on edge.

When he came in, he could see a white envelope under his keyboard. He opened it to find a note from Marsha.

Jim,

I'm sorry that I didn't make myself clearer when we met. I never meant to hurt you or Pam with any of this. I hope you'll reconsider my offer, and I have enclosed another letter from Pam to try to persuade you to do so. This letter was the first one I found a few weeks ago. Pam still doesn't know that I've been keeping them, but I just couldn't throw them away. Thanks for meeting with me.

Sincerely,

Marsha

Jim reached into the envelope and pulled out the second page. Like Pam's first note this one was written in blue ink and had little scribbles all over it.

Dear Jim,

It seems strange to be writing to you while I'm looking at the back of your head, but I couldn't figure out any other way to tell you how I'm feeling. I miss you. I miss you so much. I miss being able to talk to you about everything or nothing or whatever. I just miss...you. I guess since I know I'll never actually give you this letter I might as well tell you a few more things while I'm at it.

Jim, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you that I hadn't gone through with the wedding. You have no idea how much I wanted to call you and tell you everything. But, I just couldn't. When you left I didn't know what to do. I didn't know where we stood. I didn't even know if you would have wanted me to call, even if I hadn't been so afraid to. I tried talking to my Mom about everything, but she didn't really get it. I don't think anyone has ever understood me the way you do. Or, I guess the way you did.

He had just finished reading Pam's letter when Kevin and Oscar walked in together, with Kelly and Phyllis right behind them. He quickly put both papers back in the envelope, which he stowed in his bag for now. He wasn't sure what to think of this letter. He wanted to stay mad at Pam for not talking to him in person, but it was hard to be angry with her when he knew that she was missing him. The truth was that he missed her friendship too. And she shouldn't be beating herself up for not calling him, when he could have just as easily called her after finding out about the wedding. He sighed. Now was not the time to be thinking about this. Not when Pam or Karen would soon be walking in the door, but at some point, he knew he really needed to figure all this out.

-----

"Pam, here--this is for you."

"Oh, thanks Ryan. What is it?"

"I don't know; some woman in the parking lot asked me to give it to you," Ryan replied. He could have also told Pam that he hadn't given it to her earlier because the woman had specifically asked him to wait until Jim wasn't around to give Pam the envelope. But it was Monday morning, and to be honest he just didn't care that much.

"Oh. Okay," said Pam. "Well, thanks."

"Yeah, sure."

Pam opened the envelope, curious to see what "some woman" had written her.

Dear girl of my dreams,

Today I am turning ten years old. My mom has been making me write these letters on my birthday for a couple of years now, but I lost the other ones in my room somewhere so now she says she's going to keep them all for me until I can be trusted with them. I thought maybe if I lost the others that she wouldn't make me write anymore, but I guess I was wrong. I can't really think of anything to say but I'm supposed to make this a page long.

I hope you are having a good time wherever you are. I hope I don't know you yet because if you end up being Cindy Mason from Mrs. Colburn's class that would be really really really gross. I hope you have really long, curly red hair and purple eyes. I've never met anyone with purple eyes but my best friend Matt says his aunt has purple eyes, so I know they're real. Matt's aunt also saw a ghost once! And she got so scared that she ran the whole way from her house to Matt's house in one night. And she lives in California!

Okay, this is almost a whole page, so I'm gonna go ask my mom if it's long enough. She said no. She said I have to write more about you and how much I like you and stuff. My mom's pretty gross about being all mushy. Anyways, she says I have to say this so: I like you dream girl.

The end.

I mean...um...

From,

Me

What in the world is going on? Pam wondered. She almost threw the letter away, but she was so confused by it, and she thought it was kind of funny, in a way, to be getting a mysterious letter like this from a ten-year-old. So she decided to keep it, for now. Maybe she could laugh about it later with her mom.