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Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: Jim and Pam do not belong to me.
She has almost forgotten how he looked at her. She sees all the little glances, the disappointment, the hurt she had missed before. He likes her drawings, he knows her favorite flavor of yogurt, and he makes her laugh.

She hasn't told anyone at work that she is part of the new reality craze, but they know now.

*

He hopes she wasn't with Roy. For her sake, he hopes so. They are the hook, the unrequited romance. Still unrequited.

He leans forward, not remembering that her bangs had fallen across her forehead like that or that he had touched her then.

The Stamford branch is having a viewing party but he chooses not to go. He can't be the "star" while he watches himself go through everything all over again.

*

By the third week, her co-workers begin to grow curious. They would drop by, people she barely knows, and ask how it all ended. She shrugs. I ended up here. No, with Jim, they'd say. She never meets their eyes when she answers.

She only lives forty-five minutes from Stamford, she remembers as she sits alone on the couch, watching him. He's laughing and she wonders if they would be laughing if he was here.

*

No one at work talks to him about the show but he knows they watch it. The second week they forgot to take him off the email list for the viewing party and yesterday he heard Zach and Laura talking about it over lunch.

The girl he had met a couple weeks before stops calling and instead of staying home and torturing himself, he drives to the nearest bar to meet his friend Dan for a beer.

*
She sold her car after the move so she takes the train. She finds a telephone book at the station and scans the Hs. Her fingers shake as she punches in the number. No answer.

*

When he pulls into his driveway, he can make out a figure on his front step. He knows its her, but he doesn't believe it until she moves slightly and the porch light catches her red hair. It's like he's been set on fire and he fumbles for the door handle.

*

The sound of the car door breaks the silence. Jim's standing in front of her, biting his lip and shuffling his feet, and she wants to run home.

"I tried to call, but..." She trails off, realizing her teeth are chattering and he's moving past her, opening the door so she can come in and warm up.

*

He makes tea because he knows she loves it and because he needs to keep his hands busy. The cups clink together as he lifts them down, waiting for the water to boil.

"You live in New York." He shakes his head, still not comprehending.

"Its close to my job," she defends. "The city was too expensive." He knocks a spoon to the floor.

*
"You work in Manhattan?" She nods and takes a sip of her tea, blanching when she burns her tongue.

"At a publishing company. Its small, but I do the artwork."

"That's...wow. Great." She can tell he wants to ask her, so she answers.

"I'm not with Roy. We never--" She shakes her head and he nods, understands.

*

"I hate this," he tells her later.

"I miss you." She smiles sadly and he wants to kiss her, make her forget.

"I'm sorry," he says instead. "I thought it would be easier..."

"It was for awhile." she lies and he knows.

*

The production company calls them both a week later, hoping to get a happy ending.

"I can't help you there. I think she works at some gallery in New York."

"I haven't talked to him since then." She smiles as she hangs up the phone, picking up the train ticket off her desk as she leaves for the day.

*

"Hi," he greets her when he bumps into her at the station. She looks up, startled, confused. "I thought you might need a ride."

He kisses her by the car, his fingers play with the belt on her pale pink coat. She smells like home.


mixedberries is the author of 13 other stories.
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