It’s one of those days I hate Michael, as he sits in front droning on and on about the failed diversity day events.

Yes, I’m mad I lost my sale. It’s even worse who I lost it to, but I can’t blame Dwight for taking it. Still, it was a crappy situation and it had, in fact, put a damper on the day as a whole. I sigh as I slowly sunk into my seat, trying not to look too annoyed.

The sudden weight on my shoulder startles me. I glance over to find myself staring at the top of Pam’s head. It doesn’t register at first, but when it does I cannot help but smile. She likely just recently dozed off, something I wish I could do so easily, and she managed to slump a little bit against me.

I have no problem being a pillow, for the record.

I try not to watch her. The camera’s lens continually keeps moving over to us for whatever reason; all I need is to be shown staring at her or something.

Did I mention I hate this whole documentary thing? Regardless of the fact the man doing it is rather friendly, it sort of puts a lot of unneeded stress on me. Not that I’m doing anything I don’t want to be taped, or something.

Right.

I can feel her relax against me and I stay still, not wanting to disturb her. Michael doesn’t even notice she’s fallen asleep. Then again, he certainly isn’t one that would win an award for most aware of his surroundings. He blathers on and I keep sneaking glances and come to the eventual conclusion that she looks different when she’s asleep; peaceful, happy. It’s a nice look, one I don’t see often enough.

I don’t even notice Michael’s ended his speech until I see people leaving, and even then I want so much to just sit there and let Pam sleep. It felt almost wrong to wake her; perhaps she needs it. The camera is on us again, though, and I reluctantly attempt to wake her.

“Um, hey,” I whisper, nudging her gently.

“Mm?” she mumbles softly, her eyes opening with a slight start. She looks at me, probably confused, before slowly lifting her head up. “…Oh.”

“We can go,” I say softly as she smiles sheepishly, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” she replies as she makes sure she has everything. I watch as she slowly stands.

“…It’s fine.”

Really, it is, I add in my head. Feel free to do that any time.

I get up myself, though am stopped by the filmmaker. He do what he asks, sitting down in one of the empty chairs.

“So how did you like the diversity day?” he asks, the lens directly right at me.

“Um…not a bad day,” I reply after a pause, grinning slightly. I fail to mention exactly why.

They don’t need to know everything, after all.