Jim's had three job interviews; one he didn't hear back on, one he turned down, one he might -- maybe -- take. He tells Pam this after going out to lunch, as they're sitting on his couch, tv flickering on mute.

"I figured maybe I should try to do something I don't totally hate," he says, and Pam grins. It's weird being here. She likes it.

She doesn't ask him what he wants to do, because she hates that question. And it's Jim. She spent a week-and-a-half temping in an insurance office before the job ended; she's looking at job listings every day, sometimes even non-receptionist ones; she's thinking of taking an art class.

"Also maybe moving to Timbuktu," she tells him seriously.

"Wow," he says. "Yeah, I hear it's nice this time of year."

Jim's played poker with Toby once since the branch shut down, and Kelly called Pam to talk about something Mischa Barton did: "-- oh, and also I got a new job." The documentary crew asked both of them if they'd run into Creed; no one's seen or heard from him.

"It's so weird how, like, we're never all going to be in the same room again," Pam says. She doesn't say what she's thinking, how that was almost them, how they would have just been stories about old coworkers. Their lives going on and on, just like everyone else's is right now. On the other end of the couch, Jim rests his hand on her ankle, thumb against her pulse, and it makes Pam's heart twist. No one's ever touched her like that except Roy. It eases after a minute, and Jim's still there, still looking at her like he's kind of confused-but-pleased to find her in his living room.

He drives her back to her car way after dark. The June air's cooled off and it whips through his open windows, and through her hair when she kisses him again in the parking lot.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he says for the third time, and she smiles, unlocking her car. She feels dizzy, strange, elated. Different.

Jim stands in the parking lot and watches her go for at least as long as she can see him in her rear view mirror.

Pam opens her windows, too, lets the wind and night air rush through the car. The streets are quiet and the sky is dark and the world feels wide open.