Same Balance

The refrigerator cycled on at two.

I was already at the table.

The phone face-up. The balance

the same balance it had been at midnight.

The check was supposed to clear Tuesday.

It was Friday.

This is the math you do

when you've already done the math:

rent minus what's there,

what's there minus rent,

the gap staying a gap

from every angle.

I got some water. Stood at the sink.

The rest of the apartment was dark

in the specific way that means

everyone in it is sleeping toward morning.

I opened the app again.

Same number.

The refrigerator stopped.

I know which number I'd call.

I've thought about it three nights running—

the voice, the particular not-judging

that would make me feel worse about it.

I put the phone face-down.

Stood there.

The water still in my hand, barely touched.

The balance still whatever it was

under the phone,

unchanged,

the same as before I flipped it.