Walls

The pen bothered me.   So I asked him, “Where’d you get this again?”  It was fat and plastic and full of colorful ink cartridges.  Being something of a pen connoisseur I never would have bought it on my own.

The strange animal character on the screen jumped over a crumpled brick wall with an appropriate boing sound.  “I found it,” he told me.

“Oh.  Okay.”  I walked into the hallway.  But not entirely satisfied I called back, “Where?”

 “In the library,” he shouted from the other room.

“Okay.”  But I still didn’t remember.  And that was the worst part.