"Hey Pam, it's Jim. Just calling to say that I'm not gonna be in today, I've been sick since last night so I didn't get much sleep, and… yeah. Hopefully I'm back on Monday… or not, I don't know. I wouldn't mind never seeing Dwight again... anyway, have a good weekend."

Jim put the phone down after leaving a voicemail to let Pam know that he wasn't going to work today, before rolling over onto his back on his bed. He wanted to go to work, just so he could steal glances at her all day. But, like he said on the phone, he was sick. He'd have to spend his Friday just thinking about her instead. That, and throwing up.

He went back to sleep for about an hour, until the phone rang, waking him up.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, I'd like to order a peanut butter and Jim sandwich, please."

"Michael. Of course."

"Hey, Michael."

"What's the haps, Halpert?", Michael asked after getting over a fit of laughter at his joke. He was sat at his desk in his office, and Dwight was stood behind him, looking highly skeptical. "A little birdie by the name of Pam Beesly told me that you're sick! Everything OK?"

"Yeah," Jim replied. "I'm really sorry for not coming in today, I've just been sick since last night. I think it might be food poisoning or something."

"You were POISONED?!", Michael exclaimed in horror. "Oh God... who did this to you? Somebody in the office? You talk to Pam a lot, maybe she-"

"No, Michael, food poisoning. It normally only lasts a few days," Jim assured Michael, who breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll be fine."

"My boss is an idiot."

"Ask him what his symptoms are, he could be lying," Dwight leaned inward and whispered into Michael's ear.

"Cut it out!", Michael snapped at Dwight as quietly as possible.

"Hey, Dwight," Jim said, figuring that Michael could only be talking to Dwight.

"Good morning, Jim," Dwight replied, speaking into the phone. "If you don't mind, I'd like you to give me your home address so I could come over and make sure that this 'illness' of yours is legitimate, otherwise-"

"Look, don't worry about it, Jimbo, just get better and come back as soon as you can, alright?" Michael rushed to say with a raised voice, cutting off Dwight. "OK, bye!"

Michael quickly put the phone down before Jim could respond, and turned to Dwight, looking extremely irritated.

"God, Dwight, what is wrong with you?", Michael asked him. "Why did you have to act like he's killed somebody?"

"Maybe that's why he's taking the day off, to bury the body," Dwight quickly retorted. Michael groaned as his head sunk into his hands, and Pam walked in.

"Was that Jim?", Pam asked. "Is he OK?"

"He's fine," Michael confirmed. "We agreed that it's probably food poisoning, which apparently is not as bad as it sounds."

"OK," Pam said softly. "Randall called, he wants to speak to you."

"Alright," Michael sighed. "Dwight, get back to work. Close the door on the way out."

Dwight heeded Michael's instructions, leaving the room with his head down and closing the door. Pam walked back to her desk, thinking about how bored she was at work without Jim around.

She looked at the time. It was her lunch break. She looked at the phone on her desk, and thought about calling Jim. She wanted to. She was going to.

She reached for the phone, when Roy walked in.

So much for that.