The pen hadn’t been worth stealing. It was nearly out of ink, and it kept tearing the paper. Chelsea had only done it because it was laying on the desk, and nobody was around to claim it. Sighing, she chucked it in the nearest bin and rummaged in her bag for another one.

She frowned. The pen was in her hand. Had she imagined throwing it away? Had she just found another pen without realising? She tested it on the corner of her page: no ink, and the nib tore the corner off. She threw that one into the bin as well, hearing the clang as it hit the bottom. When she reached into the bag again, the pen was back.

Chelsea checked the bin: empty. Chelsea checked the pen: definitely the same one.

It was just her luck to be stuck with a cursed pen, but she supposed it was what you get for stealing writing utensils.

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