Fine is an angry little word, that comes out through clenched teeth. It’s a lie. It’s always a lie. Fine is the thing you say to shut down a conversation. Fine. I’m fine. It’s fine. Fine is a red hot lie dropped into the ice of misunderstanding. Fine is a door closing, a back turning.
Fine shuts me out. Fine shuts me in, slams a barrier up between me and you.
Fine is breezy. It’s a fresh, summery breeze that blows away detail. It’s the wave of a hand after a near miss. It’s a cloudless sky.
Fine is a cost. You end up paying, anyway, so why not pay now? Fine’s just storing up the shit.
Fine is the end. The finish.
You know what? Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.
This is for Linda G Hill’s Saturday Stream of Consciousness prompt. Reading it through, I could have structured this as a poem. It’s unedited – well, it’s a stream of consciousness.