The fountain pen skips on the first stroke every Tuesday morning, leaving a tiny ink river across the corner of my Leuchtturm1917 — the same notebook model I've bought since 2018, same dotted pages, same stubborn refusal to switch to Notion or Obsidian like everyone keeps telling me to. My fingers remember the drag of nib on paper before my brain catches up, and suddenly I'm eighteen again in my dorm room at King's College, scribbling lecture margins in violet ink while my flatmate laughed that