The letter sat in the trash can in Jim's bedroom for two days. It spent three days after that in the glove compartment of his car before he found the nerve to mail it. He was sure it would only lead to dejection and more rejection, but he had to know. Maybe it would be worth it in the end.

The woman at the post office told him it would take roughly three days for the letter to reach California, so he figured he had at least a week before Pam knocked him down another peg. He was finding it hard to be optimistic, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

Eight days after he mailed the letter, he found two surprises when he went into work. The first was a young blonde girl sitting at the reception desk, reading a textbook. He smiled at her when she looked up at him.

"Hi, I'm Jim," he said and reached out to shake her hand.

"Abby," the girl replied. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," Jim said as he hung up his coat. "So, what brings you to this... magical place?"

"I need the cash to pay my tuition," Abby told him. "I'm a sophomore at the U and I switched to night classes specifically so I could get a job. This job. But, um, can I tell you a secret?"

Jim nodded and crossed his heart.

"I hate phones," Abby admitted. "Terrified of answering them."

"So you took a receptionist job?" Jim asked, bemused.

Abby shrugged. "It was either this or temporary freezer stocking at Wal*Mart. Hey, do you know anything about macroeconomics?" When Jim shook his head, she swore. "Well, then I'm probably going to fail my test tonight unless some divine intervention happens."

"Well, you could talk to one of our accountants," Jim suggested. "I'd talk to Oscar. He's the most... normal."

"I don't want to offend or anything, but... is everyone here as weird as they seem?" Abby asked quietly.

Jim grinned. "Even weirder."

Abby nodded and pursed her lips. After a moment, she shrugged and reached into the inbox and pulled out an envelope. She held it out to Jim. "I think this is for you."

"Thanks," Jim said and took the envelope. He stared down at it and smiled softly. Pam had dotted the I in his name with a smiley face. He glanced up at Abby, who was staring at him intently, like she was trying to figure out what personality defect lumped him in with everyone else in the office. He tapped the envelope on his open palm.

"Well," he said, "it was nice meeting you. I hope you, uh, like it here."

Abby nodded and Jim walked to his desk. He started up the computer and set the envelope down on his keyboard. He thought about stuffing it in his messenger bag to read at home, but he was dying to know what was inside. Dwight was inside Michael's office and therefore couldn't interrupt or snoop, so Jim decided it was now or never.

Dear Jim,

Two post-scripts is where you draw the line, I think. But I'm glad you obviously had a lot to say. ;) Honestly, I thought about emailing you. As soon as I got out here I thought about CC'ing you the email I sent to my mom, but... I don't know. Something about the idea of a letter was really appealing. I haven't sent a real letter since I had a pen pal in the sixth grade. There's just something more personal about it, too. If you want to do email, we can do that. As long as I get to hear from you, I'll be happy.

Anyway, I don't have any new friends to speak of. Maddie (that's my neighbor) hasn't taken me to bingo. We usually spend the morning on her back porch, drinking tea and talking about old Hollywood. She was an actress in the '50s. She wasn't a big star or anything, but she had a small scene in a Marilyn Monroe movie that got cut. I could listen to her all day. I don't even care that the closest thing I have to a real friend here is 50 years older than I am. Maybe I'll join the Red Hat Society and get more geriatric friends. I mean, you wouldn't believe the plot twists in General Hospital and I think I could get used to eating dinner at 4:30. (Save me?)

Maddie has a job idea for me in mind, but hasn't told me what it is yet. She says I'll love it though and it has nothing to do with answering phones. As long as I don't end up working for the west coast version of Michael I should be okay.

Speaking of, is everything at work going well? Has Michael grieved for me? He needs a girlfriend or a dog or a parrot or a stuffed animal with a voicebox. Something. Pulled any good pranks on Dwight? I was thinking - you should take the little ink stick thing out of all his pens and sharpen all his pencils so that they break as soon as he tries to write something. Or glue them all into his pencil cup. I have so many more ideas than that, though. When I'm not painting during lunch, I'm thinking of pranks.

Oh, painting! I put a few pictures of some stuff I've been working on in the envelope too. And some pictures of the house, the beach, the neighborhood, stuff like that. I think they came out all right, but I'm not a photographer or anything. Let me know what you think of the paintings though. I'd love your input.

Well, I should probably go start dinner. Maddie taught me how to make cajun chicken, so fingers crossed I don't screw up her recipe!

I miss you, Halpert.

With love,
Pam