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The Pen8:47am friday, 9th january
Quizzical, he laid the pen down where he had found it. Who would leave such a thing around? It was obvious by its weight either made of gold or lead, and its yellow shining precluded the latter. I could just take it. Anyone could just walk away with it, he thought. There it lay, in the grass, as he looked up and down it the sunlight's glimmering slipped off it like golden mercury. He should put it in his pocket for safekeeping, he thought, or someone more unscrupulous will palm it for himself, and it would never go back to its true owner. He stared, and stared, and then, with effort, tore himself away. He started walking off, out of the park. "Do not covet thy neighbor's things," he repeated to himself. If someone else takes it, let it be on his head, not mine — and the rightful owner may indeed return for such a treasure. He gave it back to fate.

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