“Michael? Are you here?” James rapped his knuckles against the wooden door of Michael’s office, peering delicately through the crack.

“Jimmy crack corn!” Michael gripped the door handle and pulled it quickly, bringing James stumbling forward. “What can I do for you my boy? I thought you were staying home doing nothing?”

James stepped one foot in to the office and saw a television screen in the middle of one of Michael’s bookshelves. “What’s this?”

“Oh just an old interview I was re-watching.” Michael adjusted his tie awkwardly and began to perspire suddenly. “I can turn it off.” He leaned over the coffee table in front of the bookshelves and was about to hit stop when James unexpectedly halted him.

“Wait!” James took a deep inhalation of air and slowly moved toward the television screen.

There were two women in what looked like a television studio. It had two large over stuffed chairs and in one chair was a bubbly Indian woman with an overly adorned purple dress on. She was talking constantly and using her hands in wild gestures. The other woman was British with straight brown hair and light blonde highlights. She was wearing a black pant suit and a blue button down top.

“That’s her. Oh…Oh my god! That’s, that’s the woman that’s the woman narrating my life!” James pointed wildly at the screen placing large finger prints across it.

“Oh, no it can’t be. That’s Jan Levinson-Gould, er, I guess by now it’s probably just Jan Levinson. She’s in hiding, she’s a recluse. She hasn’t written anything in 10 years. I love her though and I’ve written her many letters but she can’t be your writer.” Michael was rubbing his sweaty palms over his pant legs and staring blankly at James.

“It is. No I’m sure of it, that’s her!”

“That’s not good then. If she is it, she always kills her main character, it’s inevitable. That’s the only constant in her stories. You are then living for a fact, a poor sad depressing tragedy.”

“What?” James turned to face Michael, completely bemused.

“No, it’s true. It’s not going to end pretty either, I imagine. Damn, and I was just getting to like you. Wow, Jan Levinson. Amazing.”

“Wait. Michael! No, no that’s not true. Than I have to see her, she has to know I’m really real. I need to find her! Help ME!” James gripped Michael’s shoulders and shook him back and forth, Michael stumbled backwards hitting his back hard against the opposite wall.

“Whoa. James, take a breath. First I don’t know where she is. Second you can’t just tell her to stop writing, she won’t anyway. Third, you’re hurting me.”

“Sorry.” James dropped his hands to his side and began pacing back and forth across the room. “What do I do?”

“Look. If this may truly happen, you need to live your life. This should be the best part of your life, you’re young, you should be in love, you should be doing the things you want to. Go out there and do them, go find what you want. Maybe that will change the outcome of the story. Maybe instead of being completely depressing and predictable, you go out there and change. Yeah, it’s official. Look deep inside of yourself and find who you truly are. Maybe you really are a Jim, ever thought about that?” Michael’s hand was squeezing James’ shoulder and James knew he was trying to comfort him, in his odd Michael Scott way but it wasn’t working.

“I don’t know. My family always called me Jimmy. I guess when I grew up I wanted to sound like an adult so I went with James.”

“Jim is much more manly, I’d go with it.

“How come you don’t go by Mike?”

“That is because I am a professor, I’m not supposed to sound ‘manly’, just always professional. Okay, so from now on, you’re Jim; that’s final. Go out today and buy something for yourself, do something you never would normally. Live! Now, go.” Michael placed his hands on Jim’s back and pushed him a little too hard out the door.

“Alright, I guess I will.” Jim lowered his hands into his pants pockets and pondered exactly what Michael had just suggested.

****

Something had come over him, something he felt he needed to change, something he thought was missing. This feeling brought him to a small shop filled with used electric guitars and he hoped what he was looking for would be found inside. He’d always wanted to play the guitar, just never had the courage.

As he stepped foot into the small charming shop, he felt bombarded and overwhelmed with the selection in front of him. There were so many colors, so many choices, so many styles where would he begin?

There was a black Gibson Flying-V that was saying “Why yes, these pants are Lycra”. A purple “Jazzmaster” that spoke a little too much Elvis, and a Cherry Gibson EDS-1275 that was asking, “I’m compensating, but for what?”

Just as he was about to give up he saw it. Peering back into the small room offset from the main area he could see it through a sea of fiberglass. It was gorgeous, it spoke to him, he knew he had to have it.

Jim stepped into the small room and pulled down the guitar, it was a pale yellow Fender Highway One Stratocaster, and it was his.

He purchased the guitar along with a portable amp and headed back to Toby’s apartment.

That night he sat in the vast empty living room and practiced one song, the only song he’d ever wanted to know how to play, over and over again.

****

“Angela?” Jan ran into the room, breathless while caring two full paper grocery bags.

“Jan? Where have you been? I thought you were going out for some research?”

“Oh I did. Actually I went out for cigarettes, across town, and it came to me. I know how to kill James Halpert! Actually I wrote it all down on the bus ride back, now I just have to type it up and that’ll be that!” Jan tossed the bags onto the empty table and they fell over spilling their contents everywhere.

A lone green apple spilled down over the edge of the table and landed with a thud on the floor. Jan looked up at Angela and just smiled at her, the apple meant something and Jan was willing Angela to figure it out.

“Well however you did it, at least you did it. So tomorrow are you going to type it up?”

“Yes Miss Stuffy. I will type it up tomorrow, don’t worry about little ‘ol me.” Jan walked into her bedroom and landed backwards on her bed. The sheets and blankets lifted up around her body and she closed her eyes. “Goodnight, Ms. Martin, you may leave me in peace now. Please!”

Angela turned away, silently shaking her head.

“Goodnight, Jan.”

With that, Angela slammed the door behind her and left Jan to finally fall asleep, in peace.