Montblanc Meisterstuck

My favorite pen in the world--simple and elegant, with a refinement beyond measure.  I have one, and I am deathly terrified that someday I will misplace it, and then my entire life will be devoid of meaning.  

I don't know where my Montblanc Meisterstuck came from, but Mom and I think it was maybe my grandfather's, and it somehow came to us after his death.  I only know that I found it one day this past winter, amid the oodles of writing utensils scattered about my (now defunct) creativity room.  As Dumbledore says, "The wand chooses the wizard," and this one very clearly chose me. Well, first it chose Grandpa, but then it chose me.  

I am currently using it to write my letters for my letter project (which are coming along quite splendidly), but it ran out of ink on Monday.  Since I went to Chicago on Tuesday, I just stocked up on refills at the Montblanc store on North Michigan Avenue (where the salesman was very nice and didn't try to sell me something I couldn't afford, like a new Montblanc pen, or one of their pretty leather briefcases.  Of course, this was after I informed him that I am but a poor and lowly student, and the fact that I had no money to spend might have dampened his sales pitch).  

If the pen was indeed my grandfather's (and I'm 99% sure that it was), it really makes it that much more special.  It's not just a pen, but one that was meant to be passed on, from generation to generation.  

Quality.  It's good stuff.