Day Two: Jim's POV

I was nervous, twiddle your thumbs, drum your fingers on the counter, watch the clock nervous. My boss, Josh Porter, had yet to arrive to work and my anxiety rose with every passing minute. Yesterday afternoon, after I got back, Josh had been out so I didn't have the chance to ask him about doing a feature story on the festival. I picked up the paper this morning to see my small blurb on the festival squished between ads for hair care and an article about a dog that communicates with cats. Apparently, the festival didn't register high on noteworthy news items, which meant my pitch had to be stellar. But really I was doing this for her, which is why I was so nervous about asking.

I had watched for Pam this morning during the basketball game. I knew in my gut she wouldn't show, but I couldn't help but hope there was a small chance that she'd come. I had been so distracted, watching every time a woman passed by on the street, that I could barely play and my team ended up losing badly. Then the usual morning staff meeting had been canceled due to Josh's absence, making me really wish that I had skipped the basketball game to enjoy some waffles. She had been in my head since yesterday and even though I could easily just go the festival after work, I sincerely felt the festival should get the coverage it deserved making it was the perfect opportunity to see her again.

"Morning Jim," Josh said, looking haggard as he arrived at the office, briefcase in one hand and coffee mug in the other. He set the brief case down for a moment so he could unlock his office door.

I immediately pulled myself away from the wall I had been leaning against to follow him into his office. "Morning Josh," I said closing the office door behind me. "Do you mind if I talk with you for a moment?"

"Sure," he said, sitting at his desk, opening his briefcase and taking out a stack of papers. "Sorry I missed the meeting this morning, the car is giving me trouble again. Nancy nearly got in an accident driving the kids to soccer practice this morning. I really need to trade that thing in." He closed the briefcase and placed it under his desk, "Oh and thank you for covering that art festival story for me. Saved me from having to go out there myself. So, what can I do for you?"

"It's about the art festival," I replied slowly. "I think we should do a feature story on it."

Josh leaned back in his chair, "Why?"

I took a deep breath in, "Well, you know, I was there yesterday and there is so much going on that I feel like it's worth doing a full story. I mean, you know me, I know nothing about art, but I really learned a lot yesterday and I think there is something beneficial for everyone and plenty to see and do. Besides Pam- Miss Beesly- the woman I talked to yesterday said they could use the publicity. They're trying to build a new wing to the museum and the revenue they generate from the festival helps go towards that."

"You've taken quite the interest in this," Josh observed.

I shrugged, trying to play cool, "I just don't the think the publicity would hurt."

Josh thought it over for a moment, "Well, Karen gets back tonight, so she can go out tomorrow and cover it."

"No," I said quick enough to make Josh raise his eyebrows, "I mean, I was hoping I could take the story. I was out there yesterday, I've already talked with them and I thought I should finish covering it."

"It's great hear that you have a newly aroused interest in art, Jim, but I don't think I have any room in tomorrow's paper," Josh explained. "We'd have to wait until the next day anyway.

"Right, but if the story is done now, you don't have to worry about later," I argued, "Besides, why throw Karen into something new when I've already got it covered."

I could tell he was debating the idea in his head. "If I give this to you, who's going to cover the game tonight?" he asked.

For the first time in recollection, I had forgotten about a game I was supposed to cover. "Um, I think I can get Stanley to cover it. I don't think he's on anything tonight," I responded, thinking quickly. This was probably the first time I had ever wanted to skip a game I was covering as well.

"Alright," Josh said, though he seemed unsure, "You get Stanley to cover the game and I'll let you go out to the festival. But Jim, it better be a pretty damn good story."

"It will be," I said, flashing him a grin.

Stanley proved to be a harder sell than I thought he would. "No," he replied simply after I explained the situation. He proceeded to chew on a large, doughy, covered in processed cheese, pretzel and did not look up from his crossword.

"Come on Stanley," I insisted, "It's baseball. You love baseball."

"I do not love baseball," He said in his usual slow drone, not even looking up at me, "You love baseball. I love my wife and it's our anniversary tonight, so if you think that I am going to give up my tickets to the opera tonight so you can chase some supposed hot story, you have another thing coming."

"You can appreciate art and culture, Stanley," I pleaded, "Don't you think we should do a features story on the festival?"

"I can appreciate it much more tomorrow when Karen comes back and does it," Stanley retorted, "That way no one will have to bother me about trivial things."

I sighed, "Look, what time is your play? Seven? Eight? The game starts at two, so that should give you plenty of time to go out this evening."

"No."

"I'll take any story off your hands that you don't want for a month."

"No."

"I'll buy you a pretzel everyday for a year."

Stanley glared up at me, but just when I thought he was going to yell he surprised me. "Fine," he grumbled, "But if I'm late for my anniversary dinner, I will have your head on a platter."

A week later, I ended up buying Stanley a whole bunch of pretzels and put them in a gift basket.

The rest of the morning went slow, as I finished all the minor jobs that needed tending to before I went out to the festival. It didn't help that Dwight insisted grilling me for a half hour about the so-called art thieves that never showed up. (Apparently, he sat outside the tent for two hours before giving up.) I left the office in the early afternoon, stopping for a small bite to eat, but I was so anxious that I didn't have much.

When I got to Scranton Park, I was sweating so heavily that I left my coat in the car, rolled up my sleeves and loosened my tie. I didn't think anyone would mind if I looked a smidgen less than professional for one day. I ran one hand through my hair in an attempt to comb it, but I learned a long time ago that no matter how hard I tried, my hair was never going to stay in place.

I walked entirely around the park once without finding her. I saw her boss, Jan Levinson, but she was yelling at some dark haired man and I thought it best not to approach. I worried that Pam might have left, so I began checking all of the individual tents just in case I missed her the first time around. When I got to the Food Tent, I found her, sitting with her back to me, picking at a salad and chatting with a dark-skinned woman about the same age. I stood in the opening of the tent taking a moment to watch her.

I didn't know how it was possible, but she was even more breathtaking than she had been yesterday. She wore nearly the same thing as she did yesterday, her blouse being blue instead of pink, but the light filtering through the opening of the tent surrounded her, made her glow. She was beautiful. Everything about her was beautiful, the way her tiny hand tucked her hair behind her ear, the way she smiled when she talked, they way she held herself, confident, yet still feminine. The revelation was so blindsiding that it took a moment to muster enough courage to approach her.

I walked to the table slowly, not wanting to disrupt her. Pam and the other woman were so engrossed in their conversation, though, that neither noticed me come around and pull out a chair. The other woman rattled on about clothes, Pam nodding as she spoke. Normally, I would have waited for a break in the conversation to speak, but the other woman didn't even pause to take a breath, so I let out a simple, "Hey."

"Oh my god," she said dropping her fork in the plastic salad container a look of pure shock on her face. After taking a moment to register that I was there, her lips turned to a surprised smile, "I didn't think you were going to show up."

"Really?" I asked, happy to note that she looked glad I was there. "I said I would," I reminded her, giving her a grin. Our eyes locked and for a second, we were completely connected.

"Hello! Pam!" the other woman's sharp voice broke us out of our trance. "Are you going to tell me who this guy is or are you going to remain looking googly-eyed and dopey?"

I smiled when I saw Pam blush. "Um, Kelly," Pam said, picking up her fork and playing with the remaining bits of lettuce left in the container, "This is Jim Halpert. He's the reporter from the Scranton Times that came yesterday. Jim this is Kelly." Her eyes never left the salad.

"Oh my god, a reporter," Kelly squealed, "Are we all getting interviewed and stuff? Can I get my name in the paper? I am so much more interesting than Pam, uh, no offense Pam."

Pam gave her half a smile, "I don't even know if Jim's here for work."

"Actually, I am," I informed them, "The boss gave it an ok. I get to do a full feature on the art festival."

Pam's eyes grew wide, excitedly, "That's great. I-"

"That's so awesome," Kelly cut her off, intrigued by the prospect of getting media attention, "I mean those TV guys yesterday were total losers. They didn't ask me one question about what I was wearing and I was totally looking hot in that sun dress I bought over the weekend."

Kelly continued to chatter about her clothes when I noticed a guy my age with dark hair and bright blue eyes approach the table. "Hey, Kel," he said, also not caring that Kelly was mid-sentence. "Jan wants you to help the theater group."

"What?" Kelly said sharply, turning in her chair to give him a glare, "Ryan, Jan told you an hour ago to help them set-up."

"No, she said specifically 'Kelly, help the theater group set-up when they get here'," Ryan shot back. Some how the conversation turned directly into an argument. "I was standing right there when she told you. Don't get on my case every time Jan tells you to do something."

"Oh, whatever, Ryan," Kelly sneered, "You know Jan told you to do it. You're just being lazy and want someone to do your dirty work for you. Well, I am not going to do it for you this time, mister."

"Yeah, you're being really mature," Ryan shot back. "Do you have any idea how babyish you are sounding right now? Who's being lazy, now? It's not me, because I am here doing what I'm told. Getting you to help the theater group. Just because you have anger issues with Jan doesn't mean you should take them out on me." They began bickering in unintelligible nonsense.

"Why don't you both go do it?" Pam interjected. Kelly and Ryan stopped arguing to stare blankly at her.

"Come on, Kelly, let's go," Ryan said rolling his eyes. Kelly jumped up from the table, continuing to argue with him as they left the tent.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," Pam said, slurping the last of her drink.

"Are they always like that?" I asked.

"Pretty much," Pam admitted, "It's gotten worse sense they started dating. Or at least, that's what I think they're doing. I don't know who they drive crazier, each other or everyone else."

"Yeah, that's nuts," I commented.

"So, you get to do a whole story on us," Pam said, sounding impressed. "That really is good news for the museum. Our numbers are up from yesterday, but they're still not at the mark that Jan wants."

"Yeah, my boss was a little skeptical about the idea," I admitted. "But, you know, I talked him into to it."

Pam let out a little laugh and gave me a toothy, bright grin. Forget the feature story, I thought. I wanted to spend the rest of the day making her smile like that.

"Alright, where do you want to start?" She asked.

I pulled a tape recorder out of my pants pocket and placed it on the table between us. "Um, we covered most of the basics yesterday. Why don't you tell me a little more about yourself. I mean, yesterday we didn't get into that too much." I thought I probably shouldn't be using my job as a way to get to know her, but I couldn't help myself.

She looked a little reserved over the question, "I don't know, there isn't much to say."

"I promise it will be off record," I said, demonstrating that the tape recorder was off. "We don't really know each other, I thought it might be nice to…know you."

"My life really isn't that interesting," she assured me.

"I promise, it can't be any more boring than mine," I replied, laughing a little.

She took another sip of her drink before responding. "Well, I grew up in Carbondale. I went to college for a couple of years and studied art but that didn't last long because I became engaged to my high school boyfriend and I had to get a job. I actually began working the museum as a gift shop clerk so we could have extra money to save for the wedding, so that's how I became associated with SIA. Anyway, Roy and I, we were engaged for a long time. A long time. Seriously, Jim, if there were an award for longest engagement we would have won that." She sat back in her chair to recollect, "Thinking about it now, the engagement lasted longer than the marriage. Yeah, but that's…behind me now. Um, so I went back to school and got an art degree. I really love to do illustrations, but I don't think I'll ever get to a professional level. And, oh, there was an opening for an assistant to the PR person so I applied and got it. A couple of months ago, Marjorie, the old PR person retired so I got the job. And now I'm here talking to you, probably giving you way more information than you ever need." She laughed uncomfortably, but I found her openness was compelling.

"Yeah, I don't think my story is that interesting," I said, thinking that she had gone through more in life than I had.

"Oh come on, you have to. I just told you my life story," she insisted. "You can't hold out on me now."

"Alright, but I hope you're not disappointed by what you hear," I joked, though there was grain of truth to my words. "I grew up in Scranton. Lived in Scranton pretty much my whole life. The only time I didn't was when I lived in Philadelphia to go to college. Went to school for journalism. Got a job here at the Scranton Times and that's about it. See, I told you it was kinda boring."

"You didn't want to stay in Philly?" She asked, trying to understand my motivation for staying.

"Well, I got the internship here and my family was here, at the time anyway," I answered trailing off. It wasn't a strong answer, but I didn't have anything better to give her.

"Oh," she nodded, though I don't think the explanation was satisfactory enough for her. But instead of continuing, she stood and I took the hint that personal history story hour was over. "Well, we should get started."

I stood, following her lead, "Sure, um, we can do interviews or chat more about the details of the festival. Whatever you'd like to do."

"We can walk around a little," she suggested. She began to clean up her mess at the table. "Yeah, I took the bus today and forgot to pack my lunch," she informed me as she gathered her waste. I tried to help, but when I reached for her cup, she snatched it away from me. "No, don't throw that away yet," she said.

I shook it, hearing only the ice rattle around in it, "It's empty," I said.

"I know, but um, this is going to sound stupid, but I let the ice melt," she explained. "So, it's like having another drink right there."

"A second drink?" I was amused because it sounded like something my college roommates and I would come up with while drunk at two in the morning.

"I don't know it's just this weird thing," She said, a little embarrassed.

"It's quirky," I assured her, making her smile. It made me want to know what other quirks she had.

She stared at me for a moment, looking as though she were trying to come up with a specific thought, "Um, can I ask you about something?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, interested in what she wanted to know.

She waited a moment, contemplating on whatever her question was then at the last second changed her mind. "Um, thank you. For coming out here and doing the story. It's great for the museum." It wasn't what she was going to say, but her words were sincere.

"Not really a question," I commented, hoping that she would still ask whatever it was on her mind. She never did.