You tap the end of you pen against the desk in rhythmic measures. Dwight's starting to give you the evil eye, and Angela keeps looking over the wall in annoyance. But you don't stop. You don't care. You don't really notice that you're doing it, or those who are beginning to hate you.
Your thoughts have captured you, lured you in, and now you can't break free. Can't stop thinking about those little fears that have been pricking your heart for days.
You've known Jim was applying for the job in New York for a full week. But it only truly hit you now. Now, when he'll be leaving in just over an hour. He keeps looking at the clock, gesturing to his girlfriend by pointing to it. He's excited to go. He wants the job. He wants to get away.
You try not to show it, try to keep it inside, but you know. You're very aware just how much pain this is causing you. It took three whole years to confess what you did on Beach Day. You hugged and made up, but not really. Nothing was solved. And now he's still leaving. Even after you told him how you feel, he's still planning to get that job that's over two hours away from here. He's still planning to move away if he gets that job.
It's okay, you say. At least you got it off your chest. At least you had gathered the courage to admit your feelings. Even if Jim no longer cares for you that way, you did it. That's what matters.
Yet it isn't. What matters is that you are in love with a man you denied. A man who now lost interest in waiting around for you. You had your chance. You blew it. So you have to settle for friendship.
Well, you can do that. At least for now. Apparently, no matter what Michael keeps saying, Jim may not have much time left in the Scranton branch. So you tell yourself to make the most of it. And you will.
On sudden inspiration, you grab out your message notepad and scribble down a line you know will make his day. And then you reach in to a drawer that you keep all your special little treasures that you couldn't bring home when you lived with Roy. They're still here. Little pieces of the last few years that meant so much, but would only make sense to you. You, and Jim.
You grab a little gold yogurt top and attach it to your note. Jim's resume is laying on his desk. It only takes a few minutes until he gets up, strolls around, then heads for the bathroom. Gathering your courage, you get up and sneak the note it to the folds of his stacked papers inside the manilla folder.
If he has to leave, he might as well leave you on a good note. Literally.
Karen notices you linger at Jim's desk just a little longer than you have to. You quickly skip back to your desk, wondering when he'll notice it. Trying to wish him good luck and mean it, while your heart wishes he'd change his mind and stay. Or perhaps, that you could just rewind the last year and go back to that night that he made his own confession.
Only time will tell now. Now you clear your mind and start praying that tomorrow comes quickly, so you'll know what your future holds. So you can drag your mind away from obsessing over Dunder Mifflin's decision. So you can stop stuttering every time you answer the phone, because you can't force your thoughts to come together.
Jim comes back from the bathroom and smiles at Karen. "Almost time," he says, sitting down and grazing his hand over the resume folder, unaware that your note is inside.