She just wants to be alone, so she can cry, really cry, like she hasn’t since everything fell apart just as the summer and her life were about to begin. But she’s never found a way to be successfully alone.

She’s huddled within herself, letting the tears run down her face. Licking her lips, she tastes salt. A flurry of footsteps and an exclamation jar her awake. She looks up.

“Pam! What happened?” Kelly stands before her, hands tightly clasped at her chest.

“Hey, Kelly. It’s nothing, really.” She swipes at her eyes as Kelly plops down next to her.

“Is it Roy? Is it Jim? Ooooh, is it both?” She has a hold on one of Pam’s hands now, the wet fingertips causing it to slide a little from her grip.

“Kelly…” The chattering continues, the hold on her hand tightening.

“Oh my God, did they get in a fight? Like, over you?!?!” Pam takes a deep breath.

“Kelly, I’m just…having a bad day.” It would be too easy, telling her. A part of Pam wants to tell Kelly everything, wait for her to tell Jim; in a perfect world he would leave Karen and come to her, kiss her like he did once in the darkened office. But she doesn’t deserve that. Thinking about it causes her throat to tighten again, and she can feel herself weakening.

“Let it out Pam, it will totally help.” Kelly places a hand on her back, patting rhythmically; it’s comforting.

“Thanks, Kelly.” She gives in, letting the tears come again until she realizes that she’s not the only one crying. “Kelly?”

“Other people crying is SO sad!” Her cheeks are overrun with black rivers.

“Its ok, Kelly.” She turns slightly, placing a hand on Kelly’s arm. Kelly clutches her hand, sobs.

“And this reminds me of all the times I’ve cried about Ryan!”

“That happens a lot, huh?”

“Yes! Oh Pam, you are so lucky that you don’t wear any make-up to make yourself look better!” Kelly takes a deep, hiccupping breath.

“I guess I am. Kelly, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why don’t you buy waterproof mascara?”

“Because it clumps! And looks so gross! I have to look good for Ryaaaan!” The last part of the sentence is nearly drowned out by her wail.

“Ok. Ok, Kelly. Why don’t we go to the bathroom and clean up?” Kelly nods, and Pam helps her up. As they shuffle down the hallway, Kelly turns, gives her a shaky smile.

“You are such a good friend.”

“No problem, Kelly.”

“Pam?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did they get in their fight? Was it in the warehouse, because I didn’t see anything. Oh! Was it in front of your desk, and you were like, sitting there, and they both kept looking at you. With love! And then they would pull some hair. Or, no, boys don’t pull hair. Maybe…”

She should have waited until she was alone at home, and could cry in the dark without interruption.