Ruby Taylor awoke five minutes before her alarm went off as she had done every morning before. She sat herself up on her bed and looked around to study her room. Everything was still there. The alarm clock was still on the nightstand. The computer was still resting in sleep mode on the desk across the room. The filing cabinet still sat in the corner next to it, with a stack of papers sitting in the tray ready for retrieval. On the other side, a bookshelf sat as it always did, lined with books and magazines accumulated over the years. On the top shelf was an organized collection of hundreds of assorted pens of varying style, function and quality in individually labeled, clear pencil boxes. To the right, in a black leather carrying case, was a recent purchase of hers and of her most prized possessions, a custom-ordered fountainpen. What had started out as a gentle exploration of the other aspects of penmanship had transformed into a collection bordering on obsession.
Although any writing utensil would functionally suffice for most purposes, Ruby's earlier schooling years emphasized practicality of thought and behavior alongside the more traditional subjects and life lessons, and as such, she spent many years pondering and reevaluating her opinions on the various tools available for the job. Crayons were for children. Markers made her skin crawl when she dragged their felt tips against the surface of her paper, and that's setting aside the fact that they bleed through most paper and sometimes even ruin the surfaces beneath the paper. Pencil, though quite cheap and long-lasting, fades rather quickly on the sheet and coats the hands of its wielder with the granular paint of graphite that only the Tin Man wouldn't notice. Blood's a painful biohazard. Paint not only takes forever to dry, but it also costs too much. And then there were pens.
Ink pens as a whole were the peak of practical in Ruby's eyes. They lacked the smear and dust of pencils while maintaining all of the benefits of it. Your average pen was cheap, effective, fast-drying and long-lasting. There had to be a reason why everyone on the planet except for your math teacher preferred pens for everything. And Ruby thought she could circumvent the whole problem with pens by simply not making mistakes. Or at least not admitting to them. Having come to that conclusion, she kept all of her forms and assignments in the filing cabinet in the corner so she could file the original copies of her work in an organized manner, pull them out when they became relevant and nearly due, and make as many copies of them as she figured she would need and produce draft after draft of her assignments until a complete and flawless final product was produced and ready to submitted. It was thanks to this meticulous editing and redrafting that she recently transitioned to completing every attempt at her math homework in pen.
Ruby stood up from the bed, put on her clothes, brushed her teeth and hair and moved over to the book shelf to select some pens and reading material for the day.
"A black one, a blue one, a red and a green one. And..." She looked over at the leather case on the right. She proceeded to grab it, wrap it in a towel and put it in her backpack.
Ruby held the object of her greatest desire between the tips of her thumb and middle fingers on her righthand every time she wrote. Whether it was print or cursive, any writing was an act of great and enduring pleasure for Ruby as long as she was able to gently grip the ergonomic barrel of the black and gold laser-etched fountain pen that bore her name in cursive on the cap. She had gotten a temporary job as a life guard after graduating from high school, and although she intended to learn as many life lessons as she could while saving for college, she spent over half of her first paycheck on this pen. She put it gently back into its box after each use, and she always relished the next time they could work together afterward.
"I never write with anything else, "Ruby declared proudly as she ran her fingers across the leather-bound carrying case that held her pen before putting it away in her purple backpack.
"I'd be surprised if you planned on marrying anyone else," sighed Ruby's best friend, Nicki.
"I don't know about that, but I don't know what I'd do without it. It's almost like a pacifier or security blanket. It's just so..."
"I know," Nicki interrupted, "Believe me. Everyone knows, and I personally think you've gone a little overboard keeping a filing cabinet and copier for the sake of using that pen."
"I've never hear of this 'overboard' before. Is that another word for reasonable?"
"If you're so reasonable about it, why don't you let me borrow it?"
"Well, it's kind of expensive. I don't want to risk it."
"Are you chicken?"
A group of girls from the neighboring class in developmental psychology passed around the conversation with an air of potential judgment, inciting Ruby's hesitation, "No. I just have a big paper to write, and.. and I need it for ummm...technical reasons," Ruby's confidence began to recover, "A project worth half my grade ought to be worth the efforts of my precious fountain pen."
"'My precious?' It's not the ring of Sauron, Ruby."
"Fine! Twenty dollars, and I'll let you hold it."
"Twenty dollars, and you let me do my philosophy homework with it... for a month!"
Ruby hesitated. She didn't trust anyone like she trusted Nicki, but she still wasn't sure if she could handle loaning something so valuable to someone so out of touch with how important this was to her. She only bought it a few months ago, but this pen was also a friend to her.
"I can't loan out this pen. That'd be like loaning out one of my friends, and, last time I checked, slavery was illegal," Ruby thought to herself. A long pause in the conversation dropped its weight on her before the next complete thought came to fruition. She combed over the pros and cons of loaning the pen out and debated whether it was more important to pledge allegiance to Nicki or maintain the status quo and her sanity.
"You can borrow it for the rest of the day, and then I want it back in my hand before I lay my head to rest," Ruby pointed her finger in the direction of Nicki as though she were trying to imply a threat.
" You won't regret it!"
"We'll see about that..." Ruby mumbled into the void between them as she reached into her bag for the plastic pencil box that contained the hand towel that protected the leather carrying case that contained her coveted fountain pen. She pondered her feelings on the matter as she braced the ergonomic grip of the barrel of her laser-etched fountain pen before pulling it out and gesturing it carefully towards her friend. "Here you go –the finest specimen of the finest writing utensil ever considered, "she said in a carefully worded manner.
Nicki grabbed the brown rag that disguised the item of exchange. She lifted up the cloth and enviously gazed her eyes upon the exquisite black leather case before opening it. There lied the perfectly placed pen that Ruby held so dear to her heart. She quickly shut and covered the case as if she were guarding a secret treasure and then placed it in the side pocket of her backpack.
"Well, I better head to class, "Nicki said.
Ruby's eyes followed Nicki down the hallway until she had to turn her head to continue following her. Down the hall, down the hall and... around the corner. She was gone along with the precious fountain pen. Ruby hadn't parted with her pen since she bought it. She took it everywhere. She sometimes even slept with it on the night stand next to her bed, with the case open so she could look at it when she couldn't sleep. She took a deep breath.
"It's going to be fine," Ruby said on the exhale, and then continued with a slightly steadier tone, "Besides, I always record the lectures on my phone so I can review and edit my notes for optimized studying. I can just record it now and do all the note-taking later." Dreading that her study plan may have been set back by over an hour, she took another breath and then proceeded off in the opposite direction towards her Algebra class.
Already, she could feel her heart rate starting to climb and her hands begin to shake. Sweat flowed voluminously down her previously dry hands and forehead. Her pace quickened as her thoughts grew louder. Within minutes, she had traversed almost the entire length of the campus without perceiving nary a detail of its rolling hills and carefully curated landscape of foliage, fountains and statues.
"I'm not sure if I can do this, but I'm already here," she mumbled to herself in reluctant abandon as she entered into the humanities building. Her confidence sank as her eyes noticed the case of trophies bearing images of pens, papyrus and leather-bound books that had been won by the talented writers of yesteryear on behalf of the school. She diverted her gaze from the trophy case as quickly as it had locked onto it and then turned the corner to the hall that contained her freshman English class.
Upon reaching the classroom, she turned the door handle and entered the room. A sparse collection of young students loudly engaged in academic supposition in anticipation of the lecture. Ruby snaked her way around the long tables that formed rows of semicircles in the room until reaching her informally declared assigned seat on the leftmost end of the back row. She grabbed her chair, sat down and pulled her phone out in preparation for recording the lecture.
The moments appeared to crawl by at a glacier's pace as the professor began to drone about polynomials and their solutions. At one moment, time seemed to stop altogether as reality began to melt away in revelation of all-consuming fear. Ruby observed herself through a glass pane. The lesson and questions blurred together into a dull mumble of sadistic quips against her and her obsession.
"Just let it go. It's just a pen," one voice seemed to suggest icily.
"You're being ridiculous," taunted another.
She swam through the sea of judgment for several eternity as the hour marched along without the involvement of her perceptions.
"Alright," the professor said, "Next time, we'll begin class with a short quiz on the quadratic formula, and then we'll move onto some application problems. And remember, the homework needs to be submitted online by 11:59tomorrow. Class dismissed!"
Brief cacophony overtook the room as students aggressively packed up their belongings and shuffled out the door to their next class. Ruby dawdled as her thoughts continued to consume her. After the last student left, the door slammed itself shut, bringing her attention back to the present moment. She unlocked her phone and ended the recording of the lecture before getting up to leave.
Ruby stepped out of the classroom to find Nicki waiting outside the room. Trails of tears streamed down her face, forking under her cheek and dripping off of her chin. "I'm sorry," she cried.
Ruby abandoned her worrying and asked, "What's the matter?"
"I, I, I..." Nicki's struggled to penetrate through her tears. She gathered herself, took a deep breath, rubbed the accumulated tears from her eyes and then forced out, "I'm sorry. I lost your pen."
Ruby's heart sank into her stomach. Her hands steadied and clenched into tight, knuckle-whitening balls as a burning rage overtook the racing anxiety. The rest of her body stiffened and leaned towards Nicki as the slightly ajar window of slightly crooked pearls shut and curved downward before inverting itself. Ruby stepped towards Nicki and wrapped her arms around her torso.
"I'm sorry I didn't trust you. I'm sorry I put my obsession before you. You're my best friend in the whole world, and I wouldn't give that up for a silly pen."
"But you worked so hard for it, and I just carelessly dropped it on the floor and let it roll off to nowhere. I deserve to be punished," Nicki reached into her purse and pulled out a crumbled wad of cash, "Here. Take this. I don't want you to speak to me unless it's to demand your money back for the pen. Not until we're even."
Ruby pushed the bundle of paper money away. "I don't think you understand. I was so mad mad at you, and then... and then I realized that I had stopped worrying and all I could think about was how it doesn't matter because I love you, and I could never replace you. I can get a new pen next time I get paid, and I have hundreds of pens at home I can write my paper with. Of course, I'll have to rewrite all of my drafts later before I submit them for storage, but I'll be fine. Don't you get it? You're more precious to me than some pen. I could never replace you like that."
Nicki sniffled and rubbed her eyes. Her guilty frown gestured upward in relief from Ruby's speech. "Thank you, Ruby. Let's go sit in my car and talk until your next class."