It had taken Michael three weeks to not weep at the sight of Pam's empty desk. He made an elaborate show of removing the memorial from the desk and had taken the picture of Pam to display in his office. The candle had left melted wax all over the desk and Michael had allowed Dwight the "supreme honor" of cleaning it up. After that, things had returned to normal in the office and Ryan had taken over the reception duties until Michael found a suitable replacement - "one with boobs," as he had put it.

Michael had sent home every applicant so far and had rejected all of the temps the agency sent over. Finally, Jan had come down to the office and chose someone to fill the position herself. Michael had pouted but it hadn't done any good and the new receptionist had shown up for her first day of work. After Ryan had trained her on the phones, Michael took her into his office for what he called "Pamification."

Jim collected his messages and mail from Ryan and went to his desk. After sorting through the normal business letters, he came upon a plain white envelope that had his name written on it in a very familiar handwriting.

He took a deep breath and opened the letter.

Dear Jim,

Hi! I know this is probably unexpected since we never agreed to keep in touch and after what happened, you have every right to throw this right in the trash. But I hope you don't. It kills me not being able to talk to you every day. You were my best friend and I miss you, so I hope you give this letter a chance. Maybe you didn't even open it. Maybe you just threw it away when you saw my handwriting. That would be fair. I would understand. I just want to apologize for how things were left. I never meant to hurt you. I'd like to have my best friend back. I want to hear about your day and I want to know what kind of pranks you're pulling on Dwight.

Don't tell anyone, but I'm a little homesick. I even miss the weather, which is crazy because it's almost always beautiful here. I usually have lunch at the beach. I've done a couple ocean watercolors. I have a lot of free time on my hands since I haven't found a job yet. Things aren't as exciting out here as I'd imagined they'd be. My only friend so far is our 78 year old neighbor. She's great and she has awesome stories, but I can't spend the rest of my afternoons on this planet watching General Hospital. I mean, I'm starting to call them "my stories."

This isn't the California I pictured. I haven't seen Mischa Barton yet! I thought I saw Eddie Murphy in the grocery store... but it turned out to be a stockboy and I don't think Eddie Murphy's career has slipped THAT far yet.

The house is great. It's a cute yellow bungalow with a porch swing. I love that thing! I make myself a cup of tea every night and sit out on the porch and just listen to everything. The funny thing is, it sounds exactly like Scranton. I'm not close enough to the beach to hear the waves or anything and I guess it's kind of stupid I thought we would be. I like walking along the beach and looking at those houses and wondering what kind of jobs those kinds of people have. I bet none of them are receptionists.

It's not so bad out here, but it's not the same as home. I'm sure I'll get used to it.

How's Scranton? Are Michael and Dwight driving you crazy? (More than usual, I mean.) How are you? I want to know everything. Everything, Jim. Even what you had for breakfast. (I had eggs.)

I hope I hear from you soon.

With love,
Pam

P.S. I miss you.

P.P.S. I'll send some pictures soon, too.