It's just a red pen. But you were sure you saw a wand there. In fact, now that you think about it you can remember the feel of the smooth slender piece of wood in your hand as you held it.
You look at it. There it is, a normal red pen, ink mostly full, pretty good quality but still, nothing special.
Your brain stops working properly. Thoughts race across your mind faster than the pen changed into a wand and back. Sentences don't even form fully in your mind. How could this have happened? Maybe you're sick; maybe there was something wrong with your food;maybe you imagined it; maybe it...
But none of your explanations seem to have any weight. That means it can only be that the pen really did turn into a wand. Which of course couldn't happen. You're a writer, you deal in the imaginary, but you don't let yourself mix it up with reality. Where did the pen come from anyway?
You think about it and realize you have no idea. It could have been on your desk for weeks, or maybe never before this moment.
Looking at the desk where you got it from, you realize there is a piece of paper, a creamy, thick sheet that you somehow didn't see at first.
You pick it up.