Sharp

My e-mail is acting weird today, so if you didn't hear back from me, I'm not ignoring you.

Now, the big story: My beloved pencil.

Yesterday morning I needed a pencil from the receptionist to write something down. I gazed into a big pencil holder and saw a little tiny stubby pencil at the bottom and pulled it out.

"I didn't even know it was there," the receptionist said. "You can keep it, if you want."

Needless to say, I was overjoyed. I'd had a small "lucky pencil" in fourth grade, and this one was just as endearing. I instantly felt the urge to love it and protect it from further sharpening.

For the rest of the day, it hung out with my eraser.



Do not worry, wee pencil. I will take care of you.