The Flat Word

She called. Said there was a problem.

A small leak.

Or a dizzy spell.

And then she said it.

Her voice, flat.

Like a ruler.

Laid on the counter.

'I’m fine.'

Her lips, I saw them.

Just for a second.

Pursed.

Before the word came out.

Holding something back.

A whole room.

Behind that single word.

I didn't ask.

What was in the room.

Just said, 'Okay.'

And hung up.