It started innocently enough. She felt terribly nervous around him now that he was back in the Scranton office. There were new faces as well: Andy and Karen had relocated here when Stamford closed down. And then there were the cameras. Pam thought they would soon have the documentary team out of their hair, but then all the changes came and the producers raised more money so they could extend the filming to capture all the resulting chaos of the merger.

Jim had been back for three days already, and they hadn't said anything more to each other than a faint hello and a nod of the head each morning. Some days he slipped out for the evening while she was away from her desk. It broke her heart that it was so awkward between them, but what could she do? She was sure he must hate her. He never contacted her the entire time he was in Stamford. Once she picked up the phone to call him, on a dreary afternoon back in July when the clouds were so black with threatening thunderstorms that it looked like night time in the middle of the day. But her hand was shaking even as she dialed the number, and when she heard the receptionist's voice she panicked and slammed the receiver down.

Yesterday she thought she caught him staring at her. He was back at his old desk, but he'd moved his monitor so that she wasn't in his direct line of sight. She had wanted to do the same thing, but the design of the reception desk didn't make it convenient to work that way. So she put a plant on the counter, right in the path of where she usually looked up to watch Jim. She did it so she wouldn't have to see all the times he wasn't looking at her. She did it so he couldn't see all the times she wanted to look at him.

But yesterday out of the corner of her eye, she saw him push himself back from his desk, and stretch his arms over his head. A gap in the plant leaves allowed her gaze to linger on him unwatched. He looked so damn handsome to her, more than she had ever truly appreciated. As she stared in admiration, she saw him bring his arms down to his lap and glance at her desk. She didn't think he could see her looking, as his face suddenly dropped the unreadable mask he wore since the day he came back. He glanced back at her desk, and she saw the unmistakeable look of sadness come over him. It made her heart ache, because she knew that look only too well. She saw it in the morning in her bathroom mirror every day Jim had been gone. She turned away, afraid he'd eventually notice she was staring.

Today she had spent the morning looking for more signs of chinks in his armor. She thought she felt his gaze every time he stopped at the copier, which had been quite a few times since today there were sales reports due. She had tried to look up, just to give him an encouraging smile, but their glances never seemed to sync.

At lunchtime she realised she was going to go insane if she didn't do something. But she wasn't brave enough for a confrontation, and she couldn't figure out a way to arrange it that the two of them would be alone together without it seeming horribly contrived. And she was especially conscious of the cameras, because they had obviously been focusing their work this week on the two of them.

She took out a legal pad and wrote a short message. She carefully ripped the paper from the pad and repeatedly folded it into a square small enough to hide in her hand. She looked around at the office, making sure the camera wasn't on her. She stood up, noting that Jim was hunched over his computer. She took a breath, feeling herself starting to shake. She grabbed her teapot as a decoy and slowly walked past Jim's desk. When she was close enough to touch him, she quickly put her hand out and dropped the note on his desk in the space between the keyboard and the monitor. She continued walking to the kitchen, never once looking at Jim.

In the kitchen she felt a bit dizzy as she made her tea. She felt a cloud of doom hanging over her, certain she'd just made a horrible fool of herself. She just prayed that Jim would throw the note away and not share it with anyone. She'd quit her job that very afternoon if anyone else found the note.

As she was walking out of the kitchen, Jim was on his way in. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. She focused her energy on the feeling of the hot teapot in her hands, and not on the spark of desire she felt when he accidently brushed her arm as they passed.

Back at her desk, Pam poured herself the tea and pretended to sort files for Michael. She had been disappointed to find that he hadn't put the note back on her desk. Her message made it very clear she wanted a reply.

An hour passed, and still he made no moves to approach her desk. When Michael left the office for some afternoon errands, Pam stopped pretending to work and started playing Sudoku instead. She sighed, trying to accept that Jim just wasn't going to reply. She had her answer. He wasn't interested in talking to her.

She had just started her second game, when she heard Jim say her name. She nearly jumped out of her chair at the shock. He handed her a manila folder. "I think these are right," he said, his gaze only meeting hers for a moment. He grabbed some jelly beans and immediately went back to his desk.

She opened the folder, expecting to find his reports. Instead she found the page of yellow paper that she has given him earlier. It was only folded in half, instead of the million folds she had done. With hands that could not hide a slight tremble, she unfolded the paper.

Please answer this question, she had written. Are you ever going to say more than 'Hello' to me? Then she had drawn two small squares and labelled one 'yes' and the other 'no'. She thought she was going to faint when she saw that he had ticked the 'yes' box.

He had written below her question: What do you want me to say to you?

Her heart was beating rapidly, and she was pretty sure was turning red at his question. She picked up her pen and let her heart write the truth. She folded the paper in half and stuck it back in the folder before she had time to change her mind. She quickly stood up, and somehow managed to walk back to his desk.

"Um, I think there's a page or two you didn't sign," she said haltingly to him, putting the folder on his desk. She could only bear to cast a quick glance his way before she went back to her desk. Practically falling into her seat, she turned back to her computer and willed herself to breathe. She prayed no one called, or no one came up to the desk, because she felt so scattered she couldn't even concentrate.

She tried to play the easiest level of Sudoku but it was like she couldn't even recognise numbers anymore. She just sat there, staring at the screen, wondering when and if he was going to put her out of her misery with a reply.

Thankfully she hadn't waited more than 10 minutes when Jim reappeared at her desk. He had the folder on the counter, his hand over it. She looked up and their eyes met again. This time she found it just a little easier to maintain eye contact, though she still was the first to look away. He didn't even say anything this time. He just passed the folder to her and walked away.

She felt a flood of nervous energy wash over her and she looked at her own words. I want you to tell me that you still love me. I want you to tell me I haven't ruined everything we had, and everything we could have.

Meet me in the supply closet at 5:15, he had written.