(no subject)
It was now or never.
Standing before the coal walk, Pam took a deep breath, hands balled into fists at her sides as she rocked back on her heels to brace herself. This was it, exactly what she'd been looking for since the night of her art exhibition. She'd run across, and then go tell everyone -- tell Jim -- how she felt. It didn't matter that Michael had tried to stop her before, that she'd been stuck taking notes all day, or even that Jim was there with Karen and chances were it'd be too late to change anything. Just doing it would be enough. If there was any other way to be more courageous and honest, she certainly didn't know it.
With one last glance back at the cameraman, the beginnings of a smile spread across her face and she ran.
It didn't hurt any more than she'd expected, but no less, either, enough that she couldn't help but let out a short cry as her bare feet hit the hot coals. She was being driven by pure adrenaline now, and she could feel it even as she reached the other side, breathless and practically beaming with accomplishment as she turned to look at the camera --
Only to find that the camera wasn't there.
Neither was the coal walk, for that matter, nor the group of people who'd dispersed to go see what Michael's last task to choose a new manager would be. Instead, Pam found herself alone on an empty stretch of beach, suddenly darker -- and, she thought, strange as it seemed, warmer -- than it had been before. Instantly, her smile faded, and she took a deep breath, trying not to seem too nervous as she looked around for anyone who'd been there before. It was some kind of joke, it had to be, but that didn't mean it wasn't completely unsettling.
"Hello?" she called, half-hesitant and still trying to catch her breath, shifting her weight in the sand. "Michael? Jim? Anyone?"
Standing before the coal walk, Pam took a deep breath, hands balled into fists at her sides as she rocked back on her heels to brace herself. This was it, exactly what she'd been looking for since the night of her art exhibition. She'd run across, and then go tell everyone -- tell Jim -- how she felt. It didn't matter that Michael had tried to stop her before, that she'd been stuck taking notes all day, or even that Jim was there with Karen and chances were it'd be too late to change anything. Just doing it would be enough. If there was any other way to be more courageous and honest, she certainly didn't know it.
With one last glance back at the cameraman, the beginnings of a smile spread across her face and she ran.
It didn't hurt any more than she'd expected, but no less, either, enough that she couldn't help but let out a short cry as her bare feet hit the hot coals. She was being driven by pure adrenaline now, and she could feel it even as she reached the other side, breathless and practically beaming with accomplishment as she turned to look at the camera --
Only to find that the camera wasn't there.
Neither was the coal walk, for that matter, nor the group of people who'd dispersed to go see what Michael's last task to choose a new manager would be. Instead, Pam found herself alone on an empty stretch of beach, suddenly darker -- and, she thought, strange as it seemed, warmer -- than it had been before. Instantly, her smile faded, and she took a deep breath, trying not to seem too nervous as she looked around for anyone who'd been there before. It was some kind of joke, it had to be, but that didn't mean it wasn't completely unsettling.
"Hello?" she called, half-hesitant and still trying to catch her breath, shifting her weight in the sand. "Michael? Jim? Anyone?"