He looked, stopped, and looked again. "Pam?"

She froze before turning. "Jim?"

"I thought it was you," he said. "What brings you out this way?"

"Jim," she said distractedly, "wow... Hi..." She shook her head slightly, as if remembering he had asked a question. "Um…just doing some early Christmas shopping. Beat the crowds. This is my favorite outlet mall. Or…it's good. But it can get…crowded."

"I hate crowds," he said.

"It's a bit of a drive for you, too, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yeah, definitely. But, you know, like you said…."

"Good outlet."

"Yep."

She readjusted the purse strap on her shoulder. "I keep forgetting we're not really as far apart as I think we are."

"Me, too," he said, and he smiled. "You look great."

"It's the shirt," she said, with a vague gesture at her upper body.

He eyed the red material as if he'd never seen the color before. "Oh..."

"Everybody loves the shirt," she said, almost apologetically. She pulled at the back hem and the neckline raised. Out of the corners of his eyes he could see at least three women showing at least five times the amount of cleavage she had been only hinting at when her neckline was in its previous position. He bit back a smile.

"Yeah, well, I...I'm sorry, I didn't even notice. I mean, I can see why everybody likes it so much. I just... Yeah, you look great."

An array of emotions crossed her faces in quick succession, and she regained her voice almost as quickly.

"I mean, it was almost embarrassing. About the shirt. People kept…coming…up to the desk…and, uh…." She tugged the back hem a bit more.

"Don't be so sure it's the shirt," he said, his tone casual.

"Well, they never came before."

"They were probably afraid of what I…Roy would do to them." He looked down, slightly flustered, and studied her feet in their black sandals.

"Jim."

He shook his head as he raised it again. "No, look, that was just a slip of the tongue. I'm sorry. You…you made yourself clear, and I respect that."

"I'm sorry."

"Well, that's two of us."

"I…." She looked at a nearby store window. He looked at a point just over her shoulder. She began to turn away, but turned back.

"So…how's Stamford? Good?"

"It's okay. I miss you guys."

"Yeah. We miss you, too."

"But it's a job, you know?" he said. "Things change. People move on."

"Oh," she said. "I guess so."

"So they tell me, anyway," he said quietly.

"Hey…" she began tentatively.

"Oh," he said. "Yeah, you probably have more shopping to do. I don't want to keep you."

Her brow furrowed.

"Listen, good seeing you," he said.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

"See you around," he said, and he took a few steps forward, moving past her, leaving her behind.

"Coffee!" she snapped abruptly.

He looked back at her. "What?"

"Um…I was just thinking…that I was going to get some coffee. If you, uh…. I'm sorry, you have shopping, too, don't you?"

"Actually," he said, "I came here to pick up chicks."

No response.

"Which was a joke."

"Oh. Yeah. Ha," she laughed feebly. "Well, I think you're in the right place. Most of them look too young to be full-fledged chickens."

"They could be spring chickens," he said, picking up on the change in tone.

"That one could be," she said, pointing. "I don't know about that one."

He followed the direction of her gesture. "Actually, I think that one's a spring rooster."

"No!" She studied the approaching figure more carefully. "Wait…you're right! Maybe he's at the mall looking for a haircut."

He laughed. "So. Coffee?"

"Yeah. Coffee."

"Sounds great," he said. "Let's sit by the window. Oh, look at her." He pointed.

Her eyes widened. "And the guys at the office liked this shirt."