The blare of his alarm clock sends a sharp pain through Jim’s head. He fumbles around, eyes squinted closed, knocking glass bottles out of his way until his palm finds its target and stops the screaming echo that is torturing him. I DEFINITELY should have stopped on beer number two. As he sits up and scrubs his hand over his face, fragments of last night begin to fall into place.

He’d made it home after Casino Night with a heavy and numb feeling throughout his body, like a dam holding his emotions from the breaking point. But locking the door behind him, the swell overtook him and he’d been flooded once again. He’d crumbled onto the couch and just let go, grateful that his roommate, Mark, was away for the night with his girlfriend because he could not stop the waves that were coming out of him. After about twenty minutes of snot filled sobs and ruminations of self-pity, Jim had decided that he’d much preferred the numb feeling he’d experienced for much of the drive home. He’d gone to the kitchen to grab a couple beers from the refrigerator and the basketball shaped bottle opener magnet that his brother gave him last Christmas.

Jim had flopped down on the couch once again and popped the top off the first beer. His thoughts were drowned in regrets. Why would I think there was ever a chance? People don’t stay engaged to someone if they have feelings for someone else. That shit only happens in chick-flicks. I ruined a perfectly great friendship tonight and for what?? He started thinking about what was next for him. His reflections returned to how he was going to tell Pam he was leaving. He wasn’t sure he could handle being in close proximity to her this soon, so it seemed like telling her one on one was out. But, he still felt badly about her finding out at the same time as everyone else. Maybe I’ll send her an email or write a little note?

Jim had brought the bottle back up to his lips only to find there wasn’t any beer left. He’d reached for the second bottle and took a big pull of the amber liquid letting its coolness bring a fractional relief to his system. Maybe the timing for Stamford is saving my ass. I need a fresh start somewhere there are no memories of her- her auburn curls, the intoxicating smell of her vanilla hand lotion, the way she bites the tip of her tongue when she’s trying to contain a laugh… Images of Pam had flickered like a slideshow through his mind and Jim’s emotions had run wild. He bounced quickly from self-pity to anger, regret to self-loathing, embarrassment, depression, insecurity… He’d gotten up, grabbed the remainder of the six-pack from the fridge, and headed upstairs to drink in the solitude of his bedroom. As humiliated and desperate as he’d felt tonight, and as broken beyond repair as he’d believed he was, there had still been a small part of him that just yearned for her. The only way he’d reckoned he could solve that problem he had lined up in front of him on his desk like little soldiers. And he drank on.

Now, in the morning light, he was feeling it. ALL of it. But he had to go to work. And he had to face her again. And this was going to be torture. The hangover certainly didn’t help things. Jim ran his fingers through his always unruly hair and went to the kitchen to start some coffee. He downed several glasses of water and two Tylenol and then hopped in the shower, hoping the steam would dissipate the thoughts and worries of his brain, as much as it did the air around him.

It was still early. He figured he could get in before everyone else and maybe have a moment with Pam to talk with her about his transfer before it became public knowledge. Even if he chickened out, he could start going through his desk to sort through what was getting tossed and what was going with him. He pulled into the parking lot and noticed the documentary crew van was already there. That was strange, as Steve and Brian usually came in about an hour later- around the time Pam arrived.

Jim moved steadily through the parking lot, trying not to pay attention to the phantom images of last night’s confession as he passed by the spot where they’d stood. He realized, as he pressed the elevator button, that he had held his breath on the journey there from the car; the tightness in his chest causing him to take a gasp of air before returning to his regular patterned breathing.

Once Jim got in the office, he noticed Brian and Steve. He was a bit disappointed that they were there if, he was honest. If I want a chance to talk to Pam alone, now I’m going to have to get creative. Their gear was already set up for a day of work, the boom mic laying across Stanley and Phyllis’s desks. The team stood close, arms crossed in front of their chests and deep in discussion. When they saw Jim, they jumped and then eyed him in a way that made him pretty sure they’d been talking about him. That’s weird.

“Hey, guys! What brings you in so early?” Brian and Steve both responded at the same time, drowning out the other. After an awkward chuckle, Brian offered again, “We were hoping to get some B Roll footage and thought coming in early would be less disruptive to all y’alls day.” Steve nodded beside him. “How are you, man? You’re in awful early, too.”

Jim thought about it for a minute and figured he may as well let them know. “Yeah, man. Yeah, ah, today’s actually my last day here. I’ve, uh, been promoted and am transferring to Connecticut. I start Monday.” Jim rubbed the back of his neck. Then, he tried to make the smile on his face behave to give the full impression of someone delighted about his new advancement. He was pretty sure he failed and rubbed the back of his neck once more.

It seemed to Jim that the looks of shock and disbelief from the doc team were barely contained by the smiles on their faces. “Wow! That’s, ah, great news! Congratulations!” Steve replied though the last word felt like it was meant to have a question mark on the end. Brian added, “Very cool! Ah, when did this happen?”

Jim found it impossible to recall the timeline of events from last night without the resulting pain in his heart and flop of his stomach. “Oh, um, I guess it’s been in the works for a couple weeks…  but the trigger was pulled late last night.” Jim was feeling awkward so he put down his coat and messenger bag and excused himself saying he needed to find a box to pack his things. A tiny chorus of, “Sure!” and, “Of course!” filled the bullpen as Jim moved towards the storage closet.

Before he could quite escape the room, Brian inelegantly asked, “Have you, uh, told… anyone… yet?” Jim’s stomach flopped again, and his heartrate sped up. He slowed just a beat and answered, “No. No, not yet.” And left the room. Jim sensed something a little off with the guys’ interactions with him but figured that- between his nerves about seeing and talking to Pam and the hangover- he was probably making something out of nothing.

He was distracted and mid desk-emptying when his attention was interrupted by the door opening. Dwight came barging through with a sneer in Jim’s general direction. Jim looked at the clock and realized the workday was about to start and Pam was not yet here. He was confused; Pam was always early and never missed work. He thought perhaps she felt embarrassed about last night, as well. Maybe she’d planned to come in at the very last moment today to avoid awkward contact with me. Dwight brought him out of his train of thought. “What is the meaning of this mess!?!” he barked at Jim as he gesticulated at the piles on Jim’s desk.

Jim just shrugged his shoulders. “Spring cleaning.”

Dwight’s nostrils flared, “Fact! It’s nearly Summer. You are late to the task.” When Jim just fixed a smile his way, Dwight finished with a huff, “Just be sure that your things stay off my desk, at all times!”

As the rest of his office mates started filing in for the day, Jim felt nostalgic about memories he’d made with each of them. He was going to miss them- well, most of them anyway. Jim was caught up in these memories each time the door opened; all the while his heart bounced in his chest each time it wasn’t Pam. When Toby walked in, his eyes caught Jim’s but anxiously looked away. He hurried past Jim uneasily, mumbling something about paperwork for the transfer. Jim didn’t quite catch what he’d said, so got up and followed him to his desk in the annex. Jim started, “Hey, man. Did you say something about the transfer? Do you already know?”

Toby didn’t acknowledge him, instead fiddled with his briefcase and coat. Then he sat down and shook his mouse aggressively as he waited for his computer to start. He continued his hummingbird-like movements and without looking Jim in the eye, finally responded, “Oh, yes. Jan… err… emailed me last night. I’ll get the paperwork together and then have you and Michael sign it. Have you, er, let… Michael know yet?”

Shit! Michael! In all the panic last night and the worrying about telling Pam, it hadn’t occurred to him that the conversation with Michael might be as difficult as telling Pam, just for different reasons. He exhaled an exasperated breath. “Not yet. I’ll try to catch him when he comes in, if that’s okay with you. I think it should come from me first.” He rubbed the back of his neck in another attempt to self-sooth.

“Sounds good!” Toby responded in a curt and dismissive tone.

“Hey, man. Are we alright?” Toby tensed. “I know I didn’t tell you directly and, as your friend, I realize that sucks. I’m sorry if there’s any hard feelings. I just need a change and the promotion is a nice one. I’ll still keep in touch though, man.”

Toby turned and finally looked in Jim’s direction, even if not at his face. “No, we’re good. Just trying to get this all put together for you.” Toby smiled, but Jim noticed it didn’t come close to reaching his eyes.

“Ok. Cool.”

Jim returned to his desk and was disappointed to see that Pam was still not there. Before he could wonder more about what that might mean, Michael burst through the main door hollering, “Good Morning!” to the room. A weak echo of, “Good Morning,” responded back. Jim knew he needed to talk with Michael before he looked at his emails so he started to make his way towards Michael’s office. Almost to the doorway, Michael popped his head back out and shouted, “Ryan! You’re manning the phones and reception today! Our little Pam-a-lama-ding-dong has called out sick.” Jokingly elbowing Jim in the ribs Michael said, under his breath, “Probably too much alcohol at our little shindig last night, ya think?!”

Jim starred at him blankly. All thoughts, save one, dropping from his - Pam won’t be here today. She won’t know I’m leaving. I won’t have to say goodbye to her…. I won’t GET to say goodbye to her. Jim’s stomach lurched and his head pounded. He felt the sensations of his hangover return with double the force.

“What can I do ya for, Slim-Jim?” Michael said with a hard pat on Jim’s shoulder. “Have a seat!” Jim moved robotically to the chair in front of Michael’s desk as the door was closed behind him. Michael rattled on about this and that, but through Jim’s dazed existence, it was hard to follow. He closed his eyes to make the world stop spinning and took three deep breaths. At that, Michael noticed that Jim was not himself. “Maybe you, my friend, imbibed beyond your limit last night, too? Can I get you some water? Coffee?” His boss had come around his desk and perched up on the corner, eyeing Jim with concern.

“Yeah, um, probably,” Jim responded weakly. “I’ll be okay.”

Michael grabbed his oversized “World’s Best Boss” mug off his desk and went to his office door. “Can someone fill this mug for me?” he shouted into the bullpen. Dwight bounded from his desk shouting that he would take care of it, completely unaware of the lack of interest from anyone else in the room.

Michael handed Jim the full mug of water and returned to the chair behind his desk. “What’s going on, buddy?”

Jim started by telling Michael how much he has learned from him and what a great boss he’s been. He decided to stroke his ego a bit more and added words of gratitude for his friendship, as well. Michael beamed at him and tears filled the corners of his eyes. Jim took a deep breath and continued. He was as gentle as possible, sharing that he’d been offered a promotion and had accepted; that he would be transferring to the Stamford branch.

Michael sat in stunned silence. Jim’s palms started to sweat. I don’t think I can take any more drama. Michael began to cry and begged him to stay. He sobbed through a litany of memories and “great times with my best friend”. He laid it on thick. It didn’t escape Jim that Michael’s  response, as much as it annoyed him, would have been music to his ears coming from Pam. He dreamed of a moment like this with her. With Michael? Not so much.  As Michael’s outburst took a turn into anger and resentment, Jim forced himself to stay and be present, occasionally interjecting soothing words and restating his previous praises. The whole while, Jim’s fingernails were pressed into his palms, leaving little crescent indentations in their wake. 

Thankfully, Toby interrupted with a knock on the door. He entered the room, laden with copied papers marked here and there with tiny post-its where signatures would be needed. Michael’s response was visceral. “Oh Toby knows?!?! Before ME, Toby knows?? TOBY!?!!!” Michael looked from Jim to Toby and back in disgust.

Jim tried to apologize and told him Jan had sent an email to everyone at the same time. Of course, Michael turned that into a judgment on his ability to do his job and read emails and so began filling the empty space with more accusations and condemnations of Jim’s choice. Michael spat at Jim. “I am not signing those!” “Traitor!” “Bearer of all of the most horrible news!” he lashed at Toby. Toby meekly interjected that his words were hurtful and let him know that Jan needed the papers today since the transfer was happening so quickly. “What do you mean- quickly?!” Michael glared at Toby.

“Well… I mean… you know… Michael, today is Jim’s last day.” At this news, Michael went completely ballistic and demanded they both leave his office immediately.

Jim stood and told Toby he’d sign whatever was needed once he had Michael’s signatures. He returned to his desk and continued to clean up his client files, marking each one with the sales associate he thought should handle the account.

It took most of the day and a phone call from Jan to get the signatures needed from Michael. At about 2pm, Michael approached Jim’s desk, stack in hand, and brusquely asked him if he wanted a going away party. Jim shook his head and started to say, “No thanks,” but Michael had already turned on his heels and gone back to his office, slamming his door behind him.

Dwight’s ears perked up at Michael’s comment. “A going away party?” He asked with the excitement in his eyes of a child on Christmas morning. “Are YOU going away?!?!” He was practically vibrating in his seat.

Just then, Toby entered the bullpen and looked Jim’s way. Jim lifted the stack of papers as Toby nodded mouthing, “Do you want to…?” Jim gave a quick affirmative bob of his head and stood. Clearing his throat, Jim said, “Hey, Everyone! Can I get your attention, please?” I wanted to let you know that I have accepted a promotion at the Stamford branch and today is my last day.” There were small gasps and whispers throughout the room. He glanced at Dwight who wore a huge smile, tears of happiness brimming his eyes. Jim continued, “I know it’s a bit shocking, but I will stay in touch.” Several of his co-workers rose and came over to hug him, shake his hand, and congratulate him. “You’ve got my email and my new extension will be in the directory. I’ve enjoyed working with you all very much,” he shared as the group began to disperse. Phyllis, the last to head back to her desk, asked him how Pam had taken the news and if that was why she hadn’t come in today. When he told her that Pam didn’t know, her brow creased with worry.

Brian and Steve asked for a final talking head at the Scranton branch. They let him know that the producers had set up a smaller documentary team that would follow him at Stamford since he was still under contract with them. They asked him questions about his decision to leave and what was next for him. There were several times where Jim felt like they were prodding him for something that he didn’t quite understand, but he figured it was probably just the undercurrent of emotion that had been flowing all day. They probably want me to talk about Pam. Well, THAT ain’t gonna happen.

A little while later, Jim handed all the signed documents to Toby, who again didn’t seem to want to make eye contact with him. What is that all about, anyway? Toby offered for Jim to leave early as all his work was wrapped up and his personal stuff was packed. “You’ll probably want to get a jump on packing up your place, anyway!” Toby encouraged.

“Yeah.” Jim glanced once more at reception willing Pam to have suddenly arrived. He hated leaving loose ends, especially with her. Though, he supposed, the ends were pretty much severed last night anyway.

Jim grabbed his coat and bag and, with the banker box of his things resting on his hip, gently knocked on Michael’s door. “Go away,” said Michael’s muffled voice. Jim opened the unlocked door anyway. Michael lifted his head off his desktop fixing a glare at Jim. 

“Michael, I’ll be in touch, man.” Silence. “You really are a great boss.”

“Okay, whatever. See ya never.” Michael responded and dramatically plopped his forehead back on his desk. Jim closed the door behind him and looked around the office one last time before heading to the elevator.