It was just laying there, not in use. I made use of it that day and it grew attached to me. Maybe I was the one that got attached.
I haven’t held a Sharpie in my hands for years. I never realized I missed that smell, the feel of it gripped in the hand as it makes a mark, the fine dark lines filling the paper one after the other.
There are a few things in this life that bring absolute joy. In my life a Sharpie just may be one of them.