The Circle

I found it in her desk drawer—

the phone book, yellowed and thin,

a number circled in blue ink,

a doctor's office I don't know.

The year on the cover is older than I expected.

That circle, that faded ink,

makes me think

she's been keeping secrets

for longer than I knew.

I could call the number.

I could find the reason.

But I'm afraid

of what that would change—

the way I see her.

So I close the book.

The circle stays circled.