i love my pen

This evening I left work and had a weird feeling that something was missing. It was my fountain pen. I squirmed about on the bus, searching every pocket of my bag, my coat pockets, back through the bag...the poor woman beside me. I called a colleague who was working late and asked her to check my desk — twice — and another colleague's office. No dice. I was devastated. Might I have lost it on the stairs leaving the office? At the bus stop? I began to cry, right there on the bus. Not characteristic of me, but I realized in that moment how much I love that pen. The woman next to me, who had overheard the phone calls, offered her condolences. I thought, how could I have possibly lost my wonderful pen. I carry it around so much, I often refer to myself as Bob Dole.

A few minutes later I remembered that under my coat was a blazer with a pocket and I found it tucked inside. I was so happy, I nearly kissed it. The photo here is stock photography, but it will give you an idea of what it looks like. The pen itself is small and fits in my hand rather easily. It also has a case which is similar to a cigar case, with a swivel top on it. The nib is perfect and writes only intelligent, poignant thoughts. Everyone in this world should be so lucky to be in possession of the perfect pen. I hope you find yours.