Green Digits

The tile, cold beneath my heel.

I stood there, hesitant, almost afraid.

A quiet, turning wheel

of worry. Months I'd played

at not knowing.

Then the numbers, green,

flared. A sudden, stark showing

of what I'd always been

running from.

The small glass square,

a judgment, come

too easily. The thin air

felt tight. A raw skin

stretched over bone.

It just sat there,

a simple sum. Alone,

I felt it set in stone.