Pen X Pencil 소설 & 이야기

Chloe's POV The sketchbook was open on the kitchen table and the pencils were laid out in order from 6H to 8B because that was the way Léo had arranged them on the first day he sat down next to her with his own sketchbook. The 6H made light lines. The 8B made dark lines. Most of the drawing happened in the middle. She used the 4B for almost everything because it didn't smudge when you pressed hard.

He threw the pen on the desk, grabbed the envelope, and left the office. April let a real smile form on her lips as she signed the divorce papers. Then she capped the pen. Damien’s pen was worth hundred of American dollars. It’s considered a luxury pen. The company limited the production of these pens. April heard David’s voice halt the Carolyn’s rehearsal dinner as he called out to Chloe.

"This thing is called an egg-shaped beauty blender. It's just that when it's shaped into a gourd, the makeup will be easier to apply!" Jonason was speechless. He thought, "Women are so scary! She pointed at a gourd and claimed that it was an egg." What was the difference between this and distorting facts? Surely enough, men couldn't reason with women! Everything they said was absolutely right! Jonason was well aware of this. Miley picked up an eyeshadow pencil and asked, "What is this?" Cyrus replied, "It's an eyebrow pencil." He had used it when he was guessing which eyebrow pencil Rachel had used a while ago. It was a long one. However, this was in white packaging. The previous one was in

56 I couldn't even think of how to describe it. 7 My fingers ran across the soft paper before something else in the bag caught my attention. There was more. 3 I peered into the bag again to find a whole variety of brand new drawing supplies. 59 Different kinds of pens, pencils, acrylics, colored pencils, and even watercolor paint and brushes. 550 None of this stuff looked cheap either. 20 I was at a loss for words. I was at a loss for everything. 8 He got all of this stuff... For me?

Fiona took the pen in her hand and looked at it, confused, "Can you give it to me?" "YES." Paul Henry nodded. When in Paul Henry's hand, Fiona thought it was just a red fountain pen, but when she held it in her hand, she realized it seemed different from other normal pens. Fiona I don't know, flipping the cap of the pen with my hand, letting out a small voice, this is not a pen at all, but a small knife, where the pen nib is replaced with a blade, looks very sharp. "This is for self-defense, the nib is made of tungsten steel, can break glass, can also be used as a pen nib to write, normally you just keep it in your pocket, it won't take up much space." Paul Henry explained.

About The Author The author is a Bicolano who hails from Binanuhan, Pilar, Sorsogon. Having lived half of his lifetime in the same locality, he devoted most of his time to learning practical things through observations and several failed attempts. Because of his ardent desire and persistence to harness, develop and maximize everything that he has to its fullest potential, he was able to achieve a certain level of mastery on matters which is of prime significance. He is passionate about a lot of things. He is simultaneously a carpenter, composer, inventor, mathematician, choir and acoustic band member, frequent user of Microsoft Excel and Google Sheets to solve work – related problems and, w

“You need something to write in.” “Write?” I repeated. “But I have no parchment.” He picked up a small book with blank pages. “This is a journal.” I touched the cover reverently. “A diary. To record my thoughts. But how do I write without a quill?” He held up a slim object. Shiny. Plastic. Suspicious. “This is a pen.” “Pen,” I said slowly. “It resembles a miniature weapon.” “It is not sharp.” “What does it use to write? Magic? Blood? Sap?”

He checked his pencil case, empty, he’d forgotten to restock it, which was that kind of thing that happened when you were managing seventeen other things at once. He was about to pack up and find another pen when a pen appeared on the table in front of him. He looked at it, then at Lucien reading a book, and had apparently not moved. “Thank you,” Eli said quietly. Lucien turned a page. “You were shaking that pen for thirty seconds. It was distracting.” “Right.” Eli looked at the pen for a moment, It felt expensive with a solid weight to it. He uncapped it carefully. “Lucien,” he said.

“What do you think? Help me pick.” I cleared my throat and straightened my posture like I hadn’t just been debating whether or not to have a secret affair with Ivan in my head. “Go with the 0.7mm one. The grip looks more comfortable and the lead size is more practical.” I said, trying to sound casual. Luna nodded and smiled. “Okay, perfect. Thanks! I’ll take this one then.” After we paid for the mechanical pencil, we passed by the fragrance section. I still hadn’t decided what to get Ivan, and I figured a perfume was safe and simple. I couldn’t think of anything else anyway, and frankly, I didn’t want to waste more brain cells thinking about it.

Pens. I have four major obsessions in life that I can’t help but hoard, but pens are my favorite. Each pen tells a story the owner abandoned once their ink or purpose ran out. I guess I identify with them. A little too much. So I care for them, give them a home, so they don’t feel used and discarded. Fountain pens. Ballpoints. Markers. Fineliners. Even a quirky set of glitter gel pens shaped like cartoon characters that I refuse to part with. They’re not clutter. They’re me.