The pen I kept for seven years

Found it today in the pocket of my old jacket—still works, but the grip’s worn down to a smooth curve where my thumb used to press. I don’t even remember why I kept it. Maybe because it was the only thing that didn’t break when I dropped the whole damn notebook into the sea last winter. Now it sits on my desk like a relic. Kids these days don’t hold pens like this—too much pressure, too fast. They write like they’re trying to outrun themselves.