Marsha rolled over in bed. Come on, she told herself, just go back to sleep. It's a Saturday morning and it's not even 10 o'clock yet. Even normal people are still sleeping in right now.

Even though she'd been up later than usual last night, and the night before that, it was hopeless. She turned to her nightstand and pulled a letter off of it. The envelope containing this letter had arrived in her mailbox two days ago, but Marsha still didn't know what she was going to do about it.

Dear Marsha,

I hope this makes it to you okay. I've been trying to call you for a few weeks now, but I haven't been able to get a hold of you. I just wanted to write to let you know that we're concerned about you. Kathy and I have talked it over, and we'd like to invite you to come visit the kids for a while. It's been years since you've spent more than a few hours with them, and I know they'd really enjoy having you. We haven't mentioned it to them yet because we don't want to get their hopes up. Please call me to let me know if you'd like to do this. Don't worry about the plane tickets I can have them ready for you whenever you'd like. Hope to hear from you soon!

Tony

Marsha read over the letter once more and then headed for the shower. When she made it down to the kitchen, she noticed the answering machine light still blinking persistently, but she really wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone. Instead, she took her breakfast into the living room and turned on the TV.

It wasn't that she didn't want to see her kids. Of course she did. She loved her kids more than anything. But it was hard to see them when they always ended up giving her looks that filled her with guilt. They couldn't seem to understand the fact that, when she and Tony had split up, she hadn't even been able to take care of herself; there was no way she could have taken care of them too.

It had been right for them to stay with their dad. He had always been a better parent to them. She was the one who had lain in bed all day with a headache and then snapped at them when they wouldn't leave her alone. And he was the one who had stayed up all night helping Audrey with her science projects and changing Sean's sheets when he wet the bed. And besides, they had a new family now, with Kathy, Tony's second wife. She was sure Kathy was a much better mother to them than she had ever been.

Tony's letter made it sound like the kids would be excited to see her, but she knew better than to believe that. Audrey was almost 18 now. A senior in high school. The last thing she needed was for some woman she hardly knew to come barging into her life. And Sean--he had probably changed beyond all recognition. He was only five at the time of the divorce. She wondered if he could even remember what it was like when they were all together.

She hadn't meant for it to end up like this. But over the years it had become a habit of hers to put off dealing with the issue. Now it was too late to do anything about it. Honestly, they were better off without her.

Later that night as she rummaged through Jim's garbage can in the Dunder-Mifflin office, she couldn't help but remember the look on Jim's face as he had left the coffee shop a little over a week ago. She had seen that look before. It was the one people gave her when they thought she was acting crazy.

She grabbed Jim's letter and read through it quickly before transferring it to Pam's desk. This one had been written when Jim was turning 16 and though it was short, she was amazed by how much Jim had grown since his 13 year-old letter. Did teenagers really change that much in such a short time? Had Audrey changed that much?

She deposited Pam's letter on Jim's desk and then went through Pam's garbage. She didn't see anything right away, so she checked again, more thoroughly this time. But there was nothing. Marsha had gotten so used to always at least finding one letter that this change shook her a little. She had to remind herself that there was probably a perfectly logical explanation for why Pam hadn't written anything. She could have had a very busy week. Or she might just have run out of things to say. Still, it was a bit of a let-down to not get anything from Pam, even just something little.

There was no point in dwelling on it. The rest of the crew had begun to enter the office and Marsha had to get back to work.

-----

Monday morning found Jim hard at work, or at least pretending to be hard at work. Pam's latest letter had been waiting on his desk when he arrived. He had read it in the relative privacy of the men's bathroom, wishing again that there was somewhere else to escape to in the office--knowing he couldn't get away with the roof or the break room. (The former because there were too many memories up there, and the latter because there were too many people who might come in and find him.) Now he was sitting at his desk trying hard not to think about the scrap of paper in his pocket.

The letter had been short. Pam had talked about a picture she was working on for her art class and he had wondered to himself why they didn't talk about those classes more often. Then Pam had gone on to talk about the parking lot of the building and how she remembered little things that had happened there. Her favorite memory, though, surprised him. She had said her favorite memory of the parking lot was standing there with a huge smile on her face right before he had confessed his love for her. Of all the moments to pick as her favorite...

Over the last few days, Jim had found himself thinking about Pam a lot--even more than usual. He was sure now that he still had feelings for Pam. Even after everything he had done to make those feelings to go away: moving to Scranton, long talks with Karen, even Karen herself. Try as he might he just couldn't get over her. Maybe he never would. But that didn't mean he couldn't try to live with it. In fact, he'd been trying for so long now that it had literally become a habit, almost a mantra in his mind. Just don't do it Halpert. Don't think about it. Shut it out. It'll only hurt you more.

For just a moment, though, he couldn't help himself. He let his mind wander. Her letter had ended abruptly. She told him that she hadn't been expecting what happened that night, but nothing more than that. He wondered if these letters would ever become clearer. Up to this point, he had been just as confused by them as he was by Pam herself. All he knew for sure was that Pam missed their friendship.

He missed it too, but he didn't ever want things to go back to the way they were. If he couldn't have her as his... what? his girlfriend? Well, yes, but this was more serious than just a girlfriend. He'd had lots of girlfriends. He wanted more than that with Pam. He wanted... everything.

He stared blankly at the spreadsheet in front of him. His eyes lost focus, the screen in front of him becoming just a blur. All he could see was a little girl running to him. A little girl with curly brown pigtails, bright green eyes, and Pam's smile. That was what he wanted.

As his eyes came back into focus he noticed the looks he was getting from both Karen and Dwight. He smiled ruefully to himself. This was exactly the reason he never let himself daydream at work.

-----

Pam's eyes were on Jim and she wondered what face he must be making to be getting those looks from Dwight and Karen. In her hands was another letter.

Dear Girl of My Dreams,

It's my sixteenth birthday today. My Dad was talking about giving me his old car, and getting himself a new one, but he hasn't actually done it yet, so my biggest present was a new suit. My grandparents bought it for me to wear when I go to church with them. Even though that's only like three times a year. It actually doesn't look that bad considering my grandpa picked it out, but it's made of this weird material that itches like crazy.

I was reading through some of these dream girl letters the other day when my mom started bugging me about writing one this year, and they're actually pretty funny. I kind of wish now that I hadn't "lost" the ones I wrote when I was younger. All I remember is that I was obsessed with what you looked like and I think I wrote one about how much I wished I was getting a puppy for my birthday.

I don't really have much to say this year, but I hope you're doing well. I kind of wish we were friends already because I don't really talk to girls that much now. I used to have a girlfriend in middle school, and I went on a few dates my freshman year, but not anymore. I don't really know any girls that I would want to ask out. It seems like all the girls at my school are either stuck-up snobs or just freaks. Sometimes girls are good to have around though, just to talk to. I mean, you can't talk to guys like you can to girls, you know?

I guess I could try talking to my sisters, but they're pretty busy doing their own thing most of the time. And besides that they'd probably just laugh at me.

Well, that's about it for this year. I'll talk to you when I'm seventeen.

Love,

The guy you're supposed to be dreaming about

She was still so confused about these letters. She couldn't think of any explanation for them except Jim. But that was crazy, Jim? Writing her letters as a teenager? Or signing them 'love'?Or calling her his dream girl?? Jim had made it very clear lately that the only girl he was dreaming about was Karen. And if Jim had been in on this prank, if it was a prank, then she would have been able to tell. Not even Jim was a good enough actor to keep her from noticing the telltale signs he let show whenever he was pulling a prank on someone. Or at least he had never been able to keep her from noticing them before.

She read over the letter one more time. It was sweet, whoever had written it, and she could picture Jim at 16 being a lot like this kid, but without any other evidence, she wasn't about to bring it up to him.

Maybe she should just wait for something else. Some hint that would tell her how to proceed. If this was a game, then she wanted to know what the rules were. It was only fair to know what you were getting yourself into before you decided to play.

-----

Three hours later, and only a few miles away, Marsha was just getting home from her weekly trip to the grocery store. They had been out of her favorite flavor of ice cream, but it was probably just as well. Lately she hadn't had much of an appetite. She grabbed the bags from the backseat and stopped by the mailbox on her way inside. The sun was out, but the air was still chilly and her gloves made it difficult to unlock the front door.

She dropped her armload on the kitchen counter and flipped through the bills and coupons from the mail. On the bottom of the pile was a small envelope addressed in purple ink. Her whole body froze. She knew that return address.

Dear Mom,

Dad and I have been talking about you lately and Dad thinks it would be a good idea for me to write you a letter so that I can explain to you how I'm feeling. He told me about the letter that he sent you a few days ago, and that you haven't been returning his calls. I wish you would Mom. I'm worried about you. I hate that you don't ever call anymore. It's not right. I know you think you failed with us, but you didn't. We still love you. You'll always be part of our family. Please come visit us! We miss you.

Love,

Audrey

The shock waves rippled through her mind as the tears started to fall. Audrey. Audrey, her baby girl. Audrey, who had giggled so hard whenever Marsha tickled her. Audrey, who used to lisp her way through every story book when she was learning to read. Audrey, who had cried for days when her hamster died. Audrey, who missed her now and still loved her in spite of everything. What kind of a horrible mother was she?

It took her less than thirty seconds to reach the phone and within twenty minutes Tony had booked her a flight to San Francisco for the very next day. A few hours later she had finished packing. Now there was just one more thing to take care of before she left.

She carefully folded each of Pam's remaining letters into the envelope and then re-read her note to Jim one last time just to be sure it was right.

Dear Jim,

I realize you've probably been confused by my arrangement so far, and I'm sorry if I've done anything to make your situation with Pam worse than it already is. I think the contents of this package will make it clear that I was only ever interested in helping you, and that if I wasn't as forthcoming as you would have liked, it was simply because I wanted to protect Pam.

But I'm leaving town tonight on family business and I don't know when I'll be back. So, I just wanted to tell you that I've been getting Pam's letters from her trash can when I cleaned there, so that's where you'll be able to find more of them, if you want to look. Also, I have to confess that I've been leaving your dream girl letters on Pam's desk. I hope you won't be too upset with me about that. I know I really shouldn't have interfered, but I felt like something had to be done, and this was the only thing I could think to do.

Jim, I'm trusting you to do the right thing with the letters in this envelope, I wish I had more time to make sure that you would, but I hope and think that you will. I know that I don't know you very well, but I just wanted to say this: don't ever give up a chance at real love. Believe me; you may never have another one.

Wishing you both the best,

Marsha Platz

When the sun rose over Scranton on Tuesday morning, Marsha was on her way to the west coast and the envelope addressed to Jim was in the mailbox.