Uncapped, no-spill, basking in the heart-warmed breast pocket. What a way to wake up!

Notebook opens… I move across the page in long, unhurried strokes: ideas arrive fast and I can carry them. This is what I was made for.

Then clipped to a belt, I see the world go by at hip height. Corridors. A lift. The racket of a meeting room.

To the photocopier: squat, graceless, its own ink reeking. It catches my eye and hums with smug indifference. My nemesis. But the light looks good.

…and then her! What a beauty: such a sleek nib, red and gold bound to me. No need for words.

By evening, I am returned to the leather bag. It closes around me, softly. Outside, the city carries on.

I have left my mark. .