"Jim," she says, and as soon as it leaves her mouth, it ceases to be a word and becomes a half-murmur-half-sigh breath that tapers into something dangerous and unknown. He thinks her eyes are reflecting life, and can nearly see rows of fluorescent lights dotting the bits of green in her irises.
He watches her lips form more syllables, small articulations evaporating into air, and although he knows that he must reply at some point, at the moment he's not even sure if his tongue functions. He swirls it around for good measure, and his mouth tastes artificially sweet, a cherry something-rather staining his taste-buds until he's sure the tang will never leave. His ears are still picking up the rise and fall of her voice, whispering to him silly gossips, and with his arms on her desk he can feel the hum of the computer in his skin. Everything around him is in tune, and she's so close he almost dies within himself.
"I could've died," she murmurs conspiratorially, eyebrows raised high and her smile alighting the whole of her face. He chuckles a bit and nearly sucks every atom of oxygen into his lungs when she briefly briefly briefly touches his forearm to emphasize something in her story. He just leans in closer, his chest growing warm, and she just lowers her voice further so its barely audible at all. He has no idea what she's saying but its wonderful and beautiful and perfect and suddenly something within him shifts so that an emptiness slides into his heart and a stone falls into his stomach.
She must notice, because her head draws back oh so slightly, and the corners of her lips tighten and still. His eyes take her in again and she has concern rushing off her, willing her presumed wrongful words to somehow be drawn back into her body where she'll keep them safe from his ears. "Are you okay?" she asks, and his heart jumps a little at the tenderness in her tone, but the weight in his chest mirrors the one in his stomach and he can't breathe.
"I'm fine, I just... can someone actually do that? I mean, is it physically possible?" As he speaks he knows he's just barely survived, and he sees her face again fade into one of happiness and take on the smug look of someone who knows what's going on. "That's what I said!" she whispers excitedly, and all he can do is smile and wish she would accidentally brush against his arm again. This isn't his, he thinks, noticing the impression of dimples on each of her cheeks, but he still understands that this is more than he should even have. His heart sinks deeper as he folds his arms and leans in closer, listening to Pam tell him everything vital and nothing of importance at all.