“Can I borrow your pen?” the stranger in the coffee house said.
I handed over my Bic, but in no time he and my pen were gone in the crowd.
I was livid. Who would so wantonly filch my pen? I like that pen. It’s seen me through a lot of my favorite writing. We have a kinship.
So I gathered my belongings and set off to find him. I rushed outside, to see him hopping into a car.
I spied the license plate, and pulled out my notepad and pen, to write down the num…
Hey, wait a minute!
(by Marianne McCann. Presented at Espresso Yourself, 4th April, 2015.)
The Pen 