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Story Notes:

Blah blah blah – standard disclaimer. NBC and Greg Daniels are all powerful; I am but a lowly fanfic writer. Don’t sue. Also, add Frank Warren (founder of Postsecret.com) to that list. PS influenced this story in more ways than one, but I don’t own it, nor do I own the secrets within.

WildBerryJam is amazing. Someone give her a Dundie already.

 

Takes place in the summer after Casino Night, so before Gay Witch Hunt.

Jim stared at the screen. It couldn’t be. It had to be a coincidence.

“Why am I even thinking about this?” he closed his laptop in disgust.

 

His sister had sent him the link about a year ago. At first, he didn’t understand it. Little postcards with secrets? Weird. But something kept drawing him back, week after week. Then he got it. You got caught up in these lives of strangers; their secrets were your secrets.

Jim remembered the first secret that spoke to him. It was a plain white note card with the words "I still haven't told my father that I have the same disease that killed my mother." It wasn’t that he could relate per say, both of his parents were still alive and kicking, but he spent the rest of that Sunday thinking about it. He imagined it was a girl, maybe a little younger than him, but still in her early 20s. She probably was diagnosed over a year ago, and was getting scared. Maybe the postcard was supposed to be her last ditch attempt to keep her secret, instead of telling her dad.

It was something Jim never shared, not even with Pam. It always felt too personal. Sure, the secrets were out on the internet, but his reactions to them – the laughter, the worry – they were his. He knew Pam would feel the same way; they always seemed to be in sync like that. Some weeks, he would find a postcard that reminded him of her, and he would write an email to share. But he would always delete it before he hit send. Something always stopped him.

 

So maybe that was why he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He knew what day it was; he recognized the handwriting. But it couldn’t be. Lots of people call off weddings, and even more have similar handwriting. So it couldn’t be anything important. It was just a coincidence.

 

But there it was. Staring back at him.

I called off my wedding because of another man. But now he’s farther away than ever. I’m scared it’s too late.

Chapter End Notes:

Postcards referenced above:

Sickness postcard: http://i26.tinypic.com/21b0n4p.jpg

Wedding postcard: http://i28.tinypic.com/2w5syef.jpg

Feedback appreciated.

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