There it was... Gone!
The Mont Blanc I inherited from my uncle is missing.
When last I assembled all my implements for a group photograph, there it was – gone! It had always stood out in the staging area. With its thin line and substantial storage, the Mont Blanc has a large capacity for long-range action. The capture mechanism is robust, externally actuated and not requiring access to internal systems. Its pointy end is broad and well-formed, able to tackle almost any medium.
Upon my return from the second-last adventure with the Mont Blanc, my friends at The Club were shocked. “What do you mean you were in Tibet?” they said as one. If they only knew that Tibet was merely a launch point to a far more interesting voyage. From Shigatse the trusty Mont Blanc took me on an adventure, the details of which must remain rather discreet. I can divulge however, that we came almost unscathed through unlikely spatial geometries. The fluid I washed out after that odyssey was unusually persistent, almost embarrassing. As I recall, it resembled a dark ichor.
Most of our adventures left me arriving home with the reservoir dry, scratching out the last of the escapade. The last time I used the Mont Blanc, it was for very utilitarian purposes. I stayed strictly local. Discharging the dregs was more mundane than usual, with most of the remaining fluid being dumped in the soil of my estate. It left stains, despite persistent cleansing efforts. That area of the meadow has a particularly odd appearance now.
Over the short few years I’ve had custody, the Mont Blanc has protected me in some surprisngly aggressive environments. We have come unscathed through bitter cold, nasty storms, and mundane gatherings. Without fail, it has dominated whatever encounter we have faced. Even among its so-called peers, it has held its own. There is no absence of gravitas.
To you, the Mont Blanc may appear to be a classic fountain pen. However, like the Tardis, it is a trans-dimensional vehicle of adventure and exploration. Like many such vessels, it has a mind of its own. Perhaps it has chosen a new custodian, new adventures. One can hope.
I value the brief time we were together. Perhaps our paths will cross again. We had some fun times, the Mont Blanc and I.