I owe a pen to a kid named Tyler.

I took his pen almost a year ago, when he was running lights for a play I was directing that I’d written for a one-act festival. I borrowed it to take notes during a rehearsal and it wound up in my pocket afterward, as often happens.

But it had such a smooth, easy feel to it that I never gave it back. It was a black ballpoint with the Amnesty International name and logo on it. And I apologize for not returning it.

But I’m not sorry I have it. (More…)