Forty drawers. Each one labeled. Some hold inks the pen still remembers. Some hold inks the pen used once and refuses to discuss. Some are empty for reasons the cabinet declines to make public. Open them. Mind the lacquer. The walnut bleeds if you press too hard.
A drawer waits. Choose one. The cabinet is patient — it has been waiting longer than you have been alive, in most cases longer than your country has been a country, and it does not mind a moment more.