It warms my heart to see an empty pen, used until the ink has dried and words and lines no longer flow from it. I love it when that pen is mine. I wonder what I wrote with the ink, what words, thoughts, feelings, I expressed. I look at an empty pen and see accomplishment. I look at an empty pen and it reminds me that I wrote, that I wrote hundreds, thousands of words, that I indulged in what makes me feel most alive and real.