Memory Item: Pen

Whenever my fingers brush against the name engraved on the side, I remember her smile. “You always need a pen, so this isn’t another piece of clutter,” she told me when she gave it to me. And it’s true. I’ve never stopped using it. Whether I’m writing the truth or otherwise. Perhaps the end will come while I’m in the middle of writing. I’ll be lucky to leave something behind, but that doesn’t even matter to me anymore. I only regret not writing down more of what you said to me.

– Fragile Dreams: Farewell Ruins of the Moon