Pens are essential tools for writers.
Writers use them like musicians use their instrument,
to create soft music and to paint fine words.
A pen is like the beginning of something amazing.
I still don't know how I mustered up enough courage to talk to him.
He was standing there with his friends, chatting and joking.
My heart was running so fast and I found it hard to breath.
"You lost your pen." I said.
I was trying to sound as normal as possible.
Only four words.
I tried to speak them out without being awkward and without showing how nervous I was.
At least I could manage to put a friendly smile on my face.
People say that I have a beautiful smile and that I should smile more often.
But my voice still trumbled and sounded a little bit too thin.
For a tiny second he was like frozen and it seemed that he couldn't believe what had just happened.
His face showed astonishment and then changed to disgust, almost hatred
about the fact that I, meaning someone like me, dared to approach him and to come to talk to him.
His friend on the left quickly regained his composure and started imitating me.
They all bursted into laughter.
I felt my cheeks burning up and my mind became overflowed by so many thoughts, that my head started spinning.
I stood soaking in the cruel laughter and I wanted to cry,
but somehow I kept it together while reality stared at my bewildered face.
I wanted to run away, but gladly somehow I was able to turn around slowly and to walk away without saying a word.
I could still hear their laughter in my back, even though I was already out of reach .
I could still see their faces in front of me, turning into depricating grimaces,
and I was still holding the pen in my hand.
I looked at it and started to cry.