One last story. That’s all I want, honestly. I don’t have much lead left, and I know you’re too lazy to go out and buy replacements.

Besides, I was there for the last round of bills. I know you can’t afford trivial things.

It’s alright. I understand, honestly! But that’s why I want just one more tale, one final flight of fancy before you chuck me in a drawer like those dried up ballpoints.

Don’t you remember the good times? Sitting in lab, doodling daydreams in the margins of that biology notebook…I still recall how your fingers would suddenly clench when inspiration struck. Oh, how we’d fly!

So please, for my sake, pick me up. Nothing would bring me more joy than to feel your art flow though me. It doesn’t matter that you’ve ignored me for days. I forgive easily; I’m good at making mistakes disappear.

And I miss you so much. C’mon. One drabble, a drawing, anything…just give me one last story before I die out.