When I was 10, I was allowed to take my pen to school, and even write with it! But when I was 11, we can only use school pen and inkpots.
When I was 13, it came with me to the Annex and together wrote a lot of compositions until its last year of life had arrived when I was 14.
I received it when I was 9 years old. I was laying in my bed with flu when it arrived from Aachen in a splendid red leather case.
This was my fountain pen, one of my most prized and valued possesions because it had a thick nib with which I can write neatly. We had an interesting life together.
I was about to write when I was forced to rub the beans to remove the mold and restore them. The pen was still in the table. Later, I tossed the rotten beans. A giant and surprising flame shot up.
I was going to continue what I was doing, but I didn't find my pen anywhere!
My biggest fears were confirmed the next day when Father empty the stove and find the clip, used to fasten it to a pocket. There were no trace of the nib. But well, my pen was cremated just as I would like to be someday!
Maybe, it fell into the stove, along with the beans!