The Green Pen

Wishing something to happen is not enough, you have to write it down for the magic to happen.

Patrick was doodling with his green felt tipped pen. He seemed to always be doodling with it. He loved his green pen. Yeah, he had others; red, blue, black and even a purple one. This green pen did not seem to be an ordinary pen. You see he had had this particular pen for ten years now. Ever since he started this job. As a matter of fact the pen had been here in his drawer even then. No telling how old it really was. It always worked. It never dried out like other felt tips he had used. It was never blotchy or ran. It was a great pen.

Today was a cloudy, cold, midwestern day. Blustery even. The forecast called for snow, cold, more snow and more cold. He hated this part of working here. The midwest could be this way in the winter. Patrick had worked other places in the States but had come back due to the fact that he needed a job. He wished the winter would just end. He wished it was sunny and warm. He would love to walk somewhere for lunch today.

Patrick wrote today's date on his pad. He then drew a small picture of a sunny, warm day with him walking to lunch. Oops. He had almost forgot to dial into a conference call. He picked up the phone and dialed the number. There were several people of the conference that he knew and hung out with, at least at work. Ben, Trish, Jim and Barb were talking about what to do for lunch after the call.

"Lets just walk to Binado's. It's not too far and we can't let this weather go to waste." said Barb.

"Yeah, great idea. I can't believe it. It was so bad this morning. It's like someone just waved a wand or something." chimed Trish in her usual perky voice.

"What are you talking about? The weather is terrible." said Patrick.

"Dude, look outside. Check online for the temp. It's gonna be great today. Weird for late January, but I'll take it." said Ben with all the inflections a California surfer transplant could muster.

Ben tried so hard to keep his Cali attitude even in the middle of a cold, harsh midwestern winter thought Patrick. As this thought crossed his mind he glanced out the window behind him.

"What the hell?" he said out loud. He apologized when he realised that the group on the phone had heard him. "When did this happen?"

"Just before the call. I almost skipped it and went outside." stated Jim. He rarely made the call anyway. He would not have been missed.

"Yeah, it was weird. I was dialing the number and looked outside.' added Trish.

"Shall we continue this 'meeting' at Binado's? I think we have a lot to discuss. It could take all day." prodded Barb. Since Barb was the manager and projects had all been suspended anyway, they all indicated they could 'discuss' business related items over some chips and salsa.

Patrick hung up, locked his computer and headed out; grabbing his green pen. As he opened the door to the sidewalk warm air washed over him like a wave. Not too warm or too cool. Just right. He walked the short couple of city blocks to Binado's, indicated to the hostess he saw his friends and went over to the table. To his surprise Barb had ordered a margarita. She wasn't going back to the office. He doubted if any of them would. Except to disconnect their laptops and lock things up. No 'real' work would be accomplished this afternoon.

The group was deep into a conversation about this freak weather. Jim was saying that the meteorologists were all stumped. It was supposed to be snowing by noon.

Author's Note

A Story fragment. Does it have potential?