Title: Contradictions.

Continuity: 'Branch Closing'. (Season Three's 7th episode.)

Song: -.

Feedback: Of course, reviews are highly appreciated. (And critics are accepted, as well.)

Warning/Comments: Slightly A/U. Pam's POV. It's always kind of complicated to figure out the real feelings of the characters beneath the appearances, but it wasn't that hard with this episode. Or maybe it's just that Jim and Pam are pretty transparent about their feelings so it's easier for us, the fans, to understand what they're thinking and feeling, no matter what they say. It is, however, a bit harder to put those feelings into words and narrate them in a story. This is my attempt.

It had been an ordinary, normal day until that moment. But of course, normality is not usual in this place. Something had to happen to break that (apparent) calm.

Michael walked out of his office, seeming clearly disturbed and scared. He asked for our attention and started talking.

"Listen up everybody, I have some news. We are screwed. Dunder Mifflin Scranton is being shut down."

I stared blankly at my desk in amazement for a couple of seconds, while the meaning of his words penetrated my dazed mind. I was so stunned and shocked that I missed what he said next. I shook my head, trying to concentrate and I heard Angela's voice making the question that was in all of our minds.

"What about us, Michael? Do we still have jobs?"

"I don't know. Probably not."He answered, visibly affected.

Then he walked into his office again, followed by Dwight, and slammed the door shut. After gazing briefly at my coworkers, who were as shocked as me, I leaned back on my chair and deep breathed, trying to analyze the facts in order to make things clearer.

The branch is closing.

Dunder Mifflin's Scranton branch is closing.

That is where I work. Therefore, I'm fired. We're all fired.

Wait a second. My mind looked desperately for a solution, something that could give me even the tiniest spark of hope. They can't fire everybody. They can't take the jobs away from of all of these people.

Yes, they can. Of course they can. I mentally answered myself. Maybe they'll keep some spots in Stamford and some of us will be sent there. Those people-the luckiest of us- won't lose their jobs.

But I won't be among those lucky people. Not a chance.

God! I don't have a job anymore. As the realization hit me, a lot of contradictory feelings started struggling inside of me.

On one hand, I had always wanted to take art classes and this seemed the perfect opportunity to start. Besides, if I didn't have to work at Dunder Mifflin anymore, there was a chance that maybe I would be able to forget him, move on and start over.

On the other hand, this job was all I had left. I didn't have a career that I could take up again in some other place; I was just a receptionist.

But there was something else; a feeling that prevailed over the others, caused by a fact that stood out, as if it was a giant neon-sign: if I lost my job, I also lost the one thing that connected me to the man I loved.

That was the plane and simple truth: Dunder Mifflin was the bond that linked me to him, and without that, without the connection that gave me hopes of seeing him again someday, I had nothing left.

If I couldn't get up every morning thinking that maybe, just maybe that day he would for some reason walk through these doors, then I had no reason to get up in the mornings.

If I couldn't stare at his desk every once in a while during the day and remember him every time I did so, then I had nothing to do with my days.

If I couldn't be there hoping that the phone would ring and I could hear his voice again, then I had nothing to hope for.

If I didn't have to wipe my tears away and force myself to look calm and normal in front of everybody while inside I was torn apart, my will was useless.

And if I wasn't there to see him come back home and welcome him when that happened, there was no use on being alive and I would be reassured about the fact that dreams and hopes only exist to make you miserable when they fail at becoming concrete results.

I looked around the confines of the office and observed every single one of my partners, wondering which ones would have one more chance and which wouldn't; wondering what would become of their lives when they had to leave the company; wondering if I'd ever see them again when that happened.

I couldn't help but silently praying for a miracle. I needed to stay there; at all costs.

Otherwise, my life would become a living hell. And I wasn't willing to let that happen.