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Pam slides the stack of books from the left side of her desk to the right. Then back to the left. Which side looks better? The answer is probably neither, but it’s not like she has anything better to do. As lazy as she usually is, today she pulled herself form bed at six thirty, finished her homework (an annoying art design she’d been putting off for days), painted her nails (violet, the only color she could find in her mess of a bathroom), and cleaned the bathroom. Now, with almost an hour to wait until Jim’s arrival, Pam deliberates over the color of the pillowcases on her bed, the positions of the shades on the windows, even the arrangement in of the dishes in the cupboard. She knows it’s frivolous, but Jim is coming, and every thought she has is of him. He loves her, she’s sure of that, but they are avoiding that discussion until she’s back from New York, a mere two months from now.
Pam falls back on her bed. Forty minutes to go. He can’t make it here fast enough.

Pam smiled at this memory, laying the note carefully back down on the coffee table and concentrating on rocking Philip to sleep for some moments of quiet. Cece’s show ended, and she stared at the black screen for only a moment before squealing “Mommy, I’m bored!”
Be a good parent, Pam reminded herself as she laid the now sleeping Philip in his baby swing and hoisted herself from the couch. No more television for Cece today.
“Why don’t we get out your paint supplies,” Pam suggested, regretting the words immediately. Paint meant mess in the Halpert household. Predictably, Cece’s face lit up, and she followed her mother doggedly down the hall to the closet which had been dubbed by Jim the junk closet. Piles of towels, bottles of soap, and old toothbrushes were jammed into every crevice, and Cece’s paint box balanced precariously on the top, a jaggedly cut wedding photo of Jim and Pam Cece had glued on to it for decoration sparkling in the dim space.


Hael237 is the author of 2 other stories.



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