The hours passed, but the image of the secret remained with her. The two hands at the top, the blue type across the bottom. It was as if the secret was haunting her, a constant reminder of the chaos in her life. She had closed the page almost immediately, in fear that Roy would see it, but that didn’t erase it from her memory. It was as if the postcard was addressed to her, questioning her desires, her wants, her needs. And if Roy was really the one who could fulfill them.

Jim was great; she loved him. “Like a friend,” she thought. But in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but think it was more than friendship. She had other friends, but with Jim…well, she hated going a day without talking to him. Every time something happened, he was the first one she told. He was there for her when her sister was sick. He had laughed with her over bad movies and popcorn. She could count on him.

But she loved Roy…didn’t she?

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the postcard. Her nights were restless, she didn’t have the energy to work or plan the wedding. Her mom was growing frustrated, not truly understanding the change in her daughter.

She lay in bed, thinking, until the early hours of the morning. It was then, with the air still and dark, that she decided. She didn’t want to wonder what it would be. She couldn’t marry Roy.

She had the best night’s sleep she had in a while.

Wednesday morning, she sat on the side of the bed, waiting. Waiting for Roy to finish his shower, waiting for him to brush his teeth, comb his hair.

The first time she told him, it only came out a whisper. She almost didn’t repeat herself, the second time was barely louder than he first. He heard it then.

He sat down next to her, shocked.

Neither of them went in to work that day. There was talking, yelling, crying, screaming. There were times Pam wanted to take it back, take the easy way and stay with Roy. It was only the image of that postcard, burned into her mind, which kept her going.

Roy left in the afternoon. Pam packed the essentials: some clothes, some toiletries. The last thing she packed was the picture of her and Jim. Phyllis had taken it at Jim’s party a few months ago. They were sitting on the couch, laughing; she couldn’t remember at what. It seemed so natural, so friendly.

She walked out of the house. She didn’t know what to do, whom to call, where to go. She just knew she couldn’t go back.

Finding myself is terrifying and wonderful