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Story Notes:

This story is a game, from me to you.  I'm sure it won't be that difficult to figure out, but each chapter is the "hymn" of a different character from the show, and I don't divulge names. (That's the game part...) 

Disclaimers: I do not own The Office or the characters, and I mean no harm in borrowing them for a while.  No copywrite infringement is intended.

Author's Chapter Notes:
Not the most difficult to determine in the bunch, I suppose.  But this was the first one that came out of me, so have fun.

She had long lonely nights.

She decided to admit that to herself because, she reasoned, once she acknowledged it she would own it.  It would become a slave to her instead of the other way around and she would be beautiful despite her heavy solitude...She would be alone just as she had been before him and that would be right. The act of believing was inside of her and she knew that it could be gripped with strong fingers because she’d done it before, she’d believed in many things and she had always believed in herself. But once the sun had gone down and the air had that certain evening chill she found she had a new lack of surety. She found she had new confusion and new uncertainty.

She had long lonely nights.

Her only midnight refuge was the vast expanse of mirror in her bathroom, and she found herself frowning into it…staring into it and wondering where she had gone, how she had become so soft and so defenseless, so aware of her own frailty. She would stand and stare and the clock would continue because time somehow worked that way… Time somehow trudged on even when things seemed so strange and different, even when things seemed to have ended. Even when she’d made mistakes. Even when she acknowledged them. Time trudged on ahead of her.

She had long lonely nights.

Her arms were always cold beneath her blankets and the flannel of her pajamas seemed only to choke her instead of warming her like it should. Her arms were always cold and her arms were always empty and she thought maybe if she just admitted to this one mistake…if she took it all back and offered him forgiveness, just this once, things would turn out ok and she would forget the crack in her unmoving and unmoved veneer because then her arms would be warm and full and she would get to try again.

She had long lonely nights.

She climbed from her bed and she looked herself in the eye, concrete-hard, ice-box-cold. She looked herself in the eye. She had always prided herself on her pride…she had always judged herself on her sound judgment…and now it seemed she was wavering. Now it seemed she was forgiving mistakes and she could feel the foreign syllables of “I’m sorry” tripping on her tongue, and she was unsettled. She was weak and she was folding and she almost couldn’t believe her own eyes.

Righteousness.

Certainty.

Courage.

Faith.

These were the names she had called herself.

And as she stood there now, eye to eye with her own reflection, she had trouble finding those words in the soft slope of her shoulders, in the gentle tilt of her head, in the glistening sheen of her eye…she couldn’t find herself.

Because she had these long lonely nights. She had regret and remorse.

She dialed his number without once looking away from the mirror and as she pressed the phone to her ear and finally forced out that remarkably sincere apology she shrugged and she sighed in defeated resignation because sometimes she couldn’t help but be just as weak as the rest of mankind, just as emotional and wrong in her choices, just as confused and just as alone. And so what if she’d lost the things she’d named herself when she was only a child? So what if she’d momentarily abandoned the sharp outlines of her views and her reasons? So what if just this once she’d given in?

Who was she, anyway?

Chapter End Notes:

 

Ok, thoughts? Too weird a concept to continue?


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