At a bookshop was the cashier and a sigh spent people do in the afternoon. A man approached.

"Do you sell pens?"
"What kind of pen," the cashier asked. There was a shuffling of feet, but all was quiet.

I was busy looking around their shelves of notebooks with the label 20% OFF.

"I don't know," the man said. "Just a pen."

The cashier found a pen from one of the drawers, said "here you go", and gave the man a pen.

A block away from the bookshop, clutching a copy of The Ginger Man I found a pen on the sidewalk. (My poor posture allows much rumination in the ground.) I am pretty sure it did not resemble the pen the cashier gave to the man.