In my world, the Fates are cruel, childish and vengeful. They hear you boast of good fortune or happiness, and they are quick to bring back the balance of mundaneness.
Zeus's three mean daughters visited me at Costco and than again at home. My pen, my beloved Space Needle pen met a horrible fate (see "fate"). As I reached in my purse the pen became unlodged and fell, fell horribly to the hard, cold concrete Costco floor. And it broke. It split from barrel to Needle. May joy dashed against the Costco rocks of despair.
I was in misery.
We looked at it and it seemed like glue could prolong it's life, and my happiness. No sooner did we get home, did the Fates once again show their heads. I placed the pieces on my desk and within hours the lighting Needle has gone missing. I sourced high and low, up and under, side to side and in and out. And nothing! Nothing! Nothing but a tear of longing. All I could find is the pink barrel. The sad and lonely pink barrel with it's ink.
And now I mourn and once again curse the daughters of destiny. I can't get another, because it would never be the same. All I have is this photograph, like a Supreme or something like that.
Looks like a twilight vigil.









