Her flight will leave tomorrow. Tomorrow, she tells herself. In four hours, she can walk out of here and in twenty-four she can board her plane to take her halfway across the country.

She flips the radio behind her desk off and looks around, not that anyone noticed. She stands and straightens her slacks - is it more professional-looking to wear slacks on job interviews? - and walks towards Michael's door.

She can feel more than one set of eyes burning holes in her back.

Don't look back. Do not give them that, Pam.

"Michael," she says shyly, and knocks twice.

"Yee-ah, Pam. Enter."

She glances at the camera on her right, and makes a nervous but hopeful face. She goes in and closes the door behind her, making sure no one will be able to hear what she's about to say.

"Pamallama. Get it, Pam-a-llama?" He smiles stupidly.

"Llama, got it. Michael, um," she starts to stutter. "You know I'm leaving tomorrow, right, so I won't be in?"

"Yeah, Ryan's got his skirts and sweaters picked out and r-r-ready to go!"

"Yeah. Um. I'm going for two weeks, and I'll be back, but it could be something really...Good for me, I guess." He looks confused. "I'm applying to a school and a for a few jobs down there, Michael."

"That's what she -- wait, what? Jobs? You're moving?"

"No -- well, maybe. But Michael, it's just a really great --"

"You're leaving us?"

"It's a good opportunity for me, if I get into that school. I don't want to...Answer phones...Forever."

"We could get you on the cleaning staff,"

"I don't want to clean."

"We could get you certified in sales, you'd be awesome, Pam, don't do this." His sentences run together.

"I don't want to sell anything. Um, maybe art. Not paper. I won't know, Michael," she has to catch his attention again. "I won't know for two weeks, maybe two months. It's only April and the semester won't start until September. I could --"

"No, no, Pam. Just. Just go back to your desk."

She's done it. She told him. "Thank you, for everything. Michael." He finally looks at her. "Thank you." She steps behind his desk and hugs him, fully aware he's probably thinking about her breasts, but he really has helped her. Somehow. Maybe.

Another hour passes. Two. Uneventful. Three PM rolls around, and she's ready to bolt. She's so busy e-mailing and making plans that she doesn't notice Karen walk up to the desk.

"Pam."

"Huh? Oh. Hi, Karen," she plasters a smile on.

"Jim told me you're leaving?"

"Um, yeah. Two weeks. Houston. Jim told you?"

"Yeah. Well, we...We broke up, and he told me you were leaving, and I just wanted...I hope you have a good trip. It sounds awesome." Her words are spaced out, like she's not sure whether to laugh or encourage.

"I'm hoping it will be," she smiles, biting her bottom lip.

"What're you gonna do? Just relax? I would avoid the beaches, you know."

"Oh, yeah. I've actually got nearly the whole two weeks planned," she lifts her little printed schedule.

"AI?"

"Art Institue. The media design program is out of this world. They also..." She stops when she notices Karen's face change to something unreadable. "Sorry, nevermind. I get carried away with this."

"No, they also what?"

"Career placement," Pam admits.

A desk drawer slams, and she sees over Karen's shoulder a tall, lanky man with brown hair who hasn't spoken to her in six days head towards the break room and slam the door shut behind him.