Within the past few days, Jim Halpert has had mini internal existential crises. Even surrounded by other humans, he feels isolated and trapped in his own mind. He looked down at his hands, palms up, stretching out his long fingers. He carefully examined the little crevices, the tiny calluses from physical work, the miniature valleys that made up his fingerprints. He turned them over, flexing his hands this way and that, making tight fists until his pink knuckles turned white. His veins danced underneath the skin stretching across the maneuvering mechanisms underneath. His light brown hair sprinkled on top was standing up from the chill of the winter morning air. He wondered what exactly kept him going, this body, this soul of his. What exactly is making him stand upright and continue about his monotonous life day, after day? There had to be more than biology involved. The word "soul" swept through his mind once more.

He allowed the concept of the human body to once again amaze and befuddle him. That's when his hands dropped back into his pockets and he slouched onto the subway, disappearing into the mass of other souls clambering onto the train.

That's when something happened.

Something completely new and extraordinary compared to his usual morning routine. Maybe that's why he did it, subconsciously thirsting for some kind of adventure. He wasn't usually an impulsive person but in this moment, his excuse was he wanted a cup of coffee before heading to the office.

He abruptly turned and began executing the awkward, "Excuse me," and "Sorry," as he maneuvered through the line of people and off the subway he just boarded. Through the queue, up the stairs and out onto the street. This Valentine's Day morning was colder above the ground, once isolated from the other people; he felt their shared body heat leave him. He took a deep breath of the freezing, crisp air and allowed himself to watch the snowflakes dance in the sunlight, only for a moment. Then he began to torture himself again.
What am I doing?

He began walking. He knew there was a donuts shop just a block away. Their coffee was usually strong and bitter. Cream and sugar today, he decided.

He painfully and awkwardly completed the transaction, trying not to blush at the pretty cashier as he simply mumbled at her. He felt a sense of relief as he walked out of the store, although he immediately missed the aroma of coffee and baking bread, regrettably entering the freezing air once more.

Just as he discovered himself abruptly changing his schedule this morning, he discovered his right hand dialing work's number while his left hand unsteadily held the hot beverage. It felt good against his cold fingers.

He held his phone up to his ear as he began retracing back to the subway. The receptionist's usual greeting didn't answer but a recorded message informing him to leave his name and number and the reason he was calling. He thought it odd that no one answered the phone.

You'd think the 'Assistant Regional Manager' would—

It was then and there he knew he would be taking a personal day. He was simply not in the mood to deal with his desk mate, as he helplessly wondered when he would no longer be a prisoner to his own restless, distracted mind.

He listened to himself as he spoke and the sound of his own voice even set him on edge. Was it because he knew he was lying?

"Hey guys, this is Jim. I won't be coming into work today. Food poisoning, I think. Give me a call if you need anything, thanks. I'll see you all tomorrow."

It was when he already pressed end on the phone that he realized today was Friday and he actually wouldn't be seeing any of his coworkers until the weekend was over. He called off work on a Friday. Why doesn't he care about his tactless and irresponsible and impulsive decision?

Stop it with the put downs, Jim, he told himself.

It wasn't like Jim to be depressed like this, especially without a specific cause. He just couldn't think of anything, but it felt like he had lost a whole year of his life. He felt like he was missing something. Jim would usually shoot some hoops, play some videogames to get his mind off of things, but time was different. He'd been feeling this way for almost a month now. Ever since…

Drawing a blank.

He kept on like this as he made his way back down the street and onto the subway once more, but this time he took a different route. He found a booth seat next to the window. He was thankful to be alone finally and free to watch the world pass by out the window.

He decided was going to see the beach.

Let's take a little vacation on your day off, Halpert.

It was an hour ride to the first stop and he made himself comfortable. He finally took his first sip from his coffee cup and burnt his tongue. This irritated him and he put the coffee down in the cup holder next to him. The train began to move.

He stripped himself of his messenger bag and put it in the seat next to him. Quietly, suddenly, memories of childhood, riding the bus home from school enter his mind. They came and then the left just as cautiously.

He retrieved a black sketchbook and one of the cheap ballpoint pens he'd taken from reception at the office. The cover was blank and soft leather. Flipping through the pages he saw that it was blank. He'd had it for a year or more, although it seemed some pages were ripped out.

I don't remember doing that.

It really was a nice journal, but he wasn't one of those guys who chose to express himself in such a personal way. He would also be horrified if he had written down something down and someone else found it. He decided against it and put the journal and pen back away in his bag. Jim tucked his hands into crossed arms and pulled his beanie down over his eyes.

It had been a gift from someone at the office for Secret Santa one year.

He felt a pang of guilt, as he couldn't remember whom it was. Jim couldn't remember anything anymore.