My ball-point pen calls out to me as I glanced over my pencil case to pick a tool for the morning. I haven’t held it, much less written with it, for months. Thankfully, the ink hasn’t dried up, though it’s flowing less smoothly than before. It takes a few scratches to warm up the nib for it to glide again. Still, something seems to have changed.
A few of my letters appear broken or lighter. Perhaps it’s not the pen, but the way I write, that has changed. My regular use of gel pens ensured that I write with less force and a looser grip, and that is now affecting how the ballpoint nib is inking the page.
Human beings are great at adapting, aren’t we? I have unconsciously conditioned the way I hold and direct my pen to accommodate the wet ink that eagerly spills out of the pens I’ve been using.
I adore, though, how my letters are looking now. Neater. Prettier. Rounder. Smoother. So much so that I’m punctuating my words just to write yet another capital letter, and another. The shoulders and tails of my letters are looking friendlier; more welcoming, less sharp, less hard. A gentle, graceful woman, as compared to the sassy, spunky one brought to life by gel.
I can write at a slower pace too, without the needless worry of smudging due to resting my nib on the same spot just a millisecond longer. I wonder how this might impact what I will write tomorrow, or if it even does. Looking forward to the mystery being revealed.