Dear Pam,

I read your letter. I found it in the desk drawer. And I guess I just wanted to write something down because I know exactly how you feel. I don’t know who will be “enough” for me, but I do know that I haven’t met her. I guess I’m waiting for her to come find me like you’re waiting for someone to find you. Sometimes I get scared of living my life like this… because what if no one ever finds me? What do I do then? I try not to think about it. It makes me sick to my stomach.

But I’m glad I found your letter. Finding someone who feels the same way is a really big help. It’s a big world and I’ll never figure it all out, and I guess it helps to know that there’s another person out there who isn’t sure either. I just hope that the both of us figure things out sooner than later. I don’t have any letters from Roy so I don’t know what he’s like, but I think you do. I think you know what you need to do. You probably already know how to fix the problem, but maybe you’re scared. I’d be scared too, I guess.

I wish I could help you. I wish I could be that one who loves you better. But I don’t know how to reach you. The best I can do is think about you, and hope that’s enough. Maybe I’ll see you in dreams. I wonder what you look like.

I guess all I can say is: do your best, Pam.

- Jim Halpert

Before he could rethink it, Jim folded up the letter and slipped it into one of the envelopes and sealed it. He wrote Pam’s name and the address from the stationery on the envelope, then licked one of the stamps and stuck it on the corner.

He stared at the envelope for a long while before sighing and going to bed.

The next morning, Jim got ready for work like he did every morning. The only disruption of his routine happened while he drank his coffee. Instead of sitting on the couch and watching the news before he left the apartment, he sat on the arm of the couch and stared at the envelope on the desk.

He sipped at his coffee and weighed his options. He had been driven insane by loneliness, that much was clear to him. The part of him that wanted to retain some normalcy told him to sweep everything into the trash and scratch out the initials (Pam’s initials he had realized while laying in bed the night before) on the underside of the desk. The other part of him, the part that secretly wanted to believe in magic, told him to mail the letter. It wasn’t likely to go anywhere but the dead letter office, he knew that, but something about the act of mailing the letter appealed to him. If he mailed the letter, he was opening himself up to the universe. In a way, he would be out there for the world to see. Maybe the universe would appreciate his gesture and send something back his way.

He wasn’t sure what finally did it for him, but on the way out the door, he tucked the letter into his messenger bag.

The envelope sat in his bag for the entire day, ignored. Jim was too wrapped up in work and Michael’s shenanigans to give it another thought. It wasn’t until he was driving home and got caught at a red light near the oldest post office in the city that the letter entered his mind again. He stared up at the light and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was tugging at him, so he made the right on red and parked the car in front of the post office. He grabbed the envelope from his bag and went inside the building.

The post office was probably one of the oldest buildings in the city. The architecture was ornate and classic, the defining features were the marble floor and columns that reached up to touch the ceiling.

Jim approached one of the free tellers and slid the envelope over the counter. “Uh, I’d like to mail this.”

The man barely looked at the envelope as he grabbed it. “Okay, no problem.”

It felt like a rather insignificant end to it all. Jim frowned and left the post office, dejected. He wasn’t sure what he had been hoping for, but whatever it was, he hadn’t gotten it. As he got back into his car, he imagined handing the envelope over and having the man behind the counter smile knowingly and nod as if to say ‘your future’s safe in these hands.’ Instead, the envelope received nothing more than a cursory glance to check for proper postage and Jim hadn’t even received a ‘thank you’ or ‘good-bye.’

When he got home, Jim didn’t feel like staying home alone, so he called up Anne and asked her if she wanted to go out and she agreed.

While Jim got ready for the date, he couldn’t put the letter out of his mind. Now that it had time to sink in, he felt pretty stupid. Pam had never mailed her letter, so why had he felt the urge to mail his? Why couldn’t he have done what she did and simply left it in the desk drawer for someone else to discover eighty years down the line? What would have been so terrible about that? He wasn’t looking forward to getting that envelope back in his mailbox with Return To Sender stamped on it in big, red letters. It would feel like the universe was ignoring him all over again.

Before he left the apartment, he shoved everything back into the drawer where he had found it and tried to forget about it.

When they were seated in Anna Maria’s, Jim made his best efforts at small talk and tried to focus on the conversation with Anne, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the letter. He thought briefly about his own letter and how he felt, but spent most of his time thinking about Pam’s letter and trying to imagine what it would be like to be so close to marrying someone you weren’t sure you wanted to be with. Had she gone through with it? Had somebody found her and spoken up? As ridiculous as it was, he wanted to ask her what happened.

Anne must have noticed that he wasn’t all there, because she said, “Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” Jim looked up from his barely touched plate of food. “Oh, yeah. Just… thinking. Work stuff, I guess.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because you look upset.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to be, like, moody or whatever. I promise I’m having a good time. It’s just an off day for me, I guess.”

“Okay,” Anne said. “Well, you know that if you ever want to talk about anything, you can talk to me. I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

Jim nodded. “No, yeah, you definitely are. I mean, if I recall correctly, you remember my favorite color and my favorite kind of cookie.”

“Chocolate chip,” Anne said and smiled. “Kind of an easy one. Come on, challenge me here, Jim. Ask me something tough.”

Jim offered a small smile. After that, he managed to turn the date around. He forgot about the weird feelings he was having and focused on having a nice evening with a pretty girl. He was having a good time, but it was hard to ignore the nagging feeling that Anne still wasn’t enough. He ate his pasta, cracked jokes and tried to tell himself that this was the sort of thing he wanted.

After dinner, they stopped for a quick drink and Jim made up an excuse to end the night early. When he pulled up in front of Anne’s house, he smiled and said, “Well, last stop.”

“Yep,” Anne said. She opened the car door. “I had fun tonight.”

After Anne had gotten out of the car, Jim replied, “I had a good time, too. Night, Pam.”

He cringed and opened his mouth to explain, but Anne had already shut the car door in his face and started walking toward her front door.

Jim rested his forehead on the steering wheel and sighed deeply. After a moment, he lifted his head and glanced at himself in the rearview mirror.

He shook his head and said quietly, “What is wrong with you?”