By Devra Ferst

It started at Russ & Daughters Cafe on my 30th birthday. After bagels, lox, and a halva sundae, the bill arrived with two hard coffee candies (the kind my grandfather used to like), a postcard, and a pen. In place of the generic stic precision ballpoint pens that came with nearly every bill in the days before the Square app, a sleek two-toned pen appeared. It was dark sky blue on the top half and white on the bottom with the Russ & Daughters name and motto “Appetizing Since 1914” running up its side. It felt like a birthday present. Without thinking, I pocketed it. So began my life of crime.

Months later, I dug into my bag for a pen. Feeling around in the dark abyss, I was surprised to come up with several that were more stylish than the green TD bank pens that seem to proliferate when no one’s looking. There was an electric blue one from Flora Bar at the Met Breuer museum, with its fittingly stylish and clean white font, a souvenir from a mid-afternoon snack of radicchio salad and white wine with my friend Gil. And, there was a forest green one from Olmsted that reminded me of a much needed solo drink in the restaurant’s lush backyard garden. An ad hoc collection had accumulated.