Lunchtime
By TurangaLeela
As you're finishing the last of your sandwich, Kevin and Oscar enter, each holding a brightly-colored paper bag and a large drink. Kevin's already stuffing fries in his mouth as he sits.
"Hey, Jim," Oscar says as he sits down and begins to unwrap his burger. Kevin just grunts in greeting as he chews.
"Hey, guys." It beats sitting by yourself. Kevin and Oscar aren't the most exciting company, but lately you've been eating alone more often. Too often. Pam used to sit with you almost every day, trading jibes and swiping carrot sticks, but lately she's been eating at her desk most days. (Or claiming to. You suspect she's not eating lunch at all--her face is looking more drawn and sad with each passing day—but you've recently decided her problems aren't yours anymore. Let Roy worry about her. Not that he will. Not that he really sees her at all...)
Oscar is looking at you expectantly, and you realize he asked you a question. "Sorry, man, I spaced. What?"
"I said, why don't you ever buy lunch? You always bring yours from home."
You look down at the last bite of ham and cheese in your hand.
You opened the bank account not long after she showed you the book. Cut back a little on pointless expenditures, watched a little more carefully how much money you spend going to the bar with your roommate. In a little over two years, you've managed to save almost nine thousand dollars.
"I'm trying to save up some money."
"What for?" Oscar asks.
In your mind's eye, you see a house. An old-fashioned brick house, with children's plastic toys scattered on the front porch. On the second-floor terrace, pots of bright flowers bloom.
They don't have any houses like that in Scranton. But you could build one for her.
Ruthlessly you shove away the thought. You're a delusional freak, Halpert.
You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. "Tired of the Toyota. Looking for new wheels."
Kevin elbows Oscar, grins creepily around his mouthful of burger. "I bet his mom packed his lunch for him."
You drop the remains of your sandwich in the brown bag, ball it up, aim for the garbage can. It lands true. All air, no rim. As you rise, you clap Kevin on the shoulder.
"Your mom packed it, Kev. She wants me to keep my strength up for tonight."
Oscar's choked guffaw trails behind you as you leave the break room. Returning to your desk, you look at her. Distant, clouded eyes look up at you for just a moment, then away again. No hello, no smile, no snarky comment. Just quiet and sadness.
And it's not your damn problem anymore. There was a time when it seemed so close...when she seemed so close. But everything's changed now, hasn't it?
Her dreams aren't yours. They never were.
"Hey, Dwight, got any of those car magazines handy? I'm thinking about trying something new."