I’ve Got To Get Out of Here!
A story of heartache, friendship, and hope
“I’ve got to get out of here,” said the Marriott pen. “It’s the same four walls, the same one person, the same collection of you every day. Once, I was in a beautiful suite with new people all the time. Until Susan stole me and brought me here.”
“It isn’t stealing to take the pen from a hotel room,” I protested. “They want you to take the pen as free advertising.”
“Maybe,” said Marriott, “but lots of people came without taking me.”
“You should be grateful Susan took you. She’s kind and gentle with her touch,” said Green Felt Tip.
“Who can remember her touch?” asked Bic. “Susan used to write lists with me. Now she says, ‘Alexa, add sugar to the shopping list. Alexa set a reminder to call the dentist.’ I can barely remember being touched. The warmth of fingers. The gentle pressure,” Bic sighed.
“When we got out, we had adventures. The kitchen counter, the sofa,” said Pilot Fine Tip. “Does anyone remember sofa cushion diving?”
“Pilot,” I scolded, “many pens never come back from sofa diving. I lost my best friend, Blue Sharpie, that way. Though I still hope a good cleaning might find him.”
