The silence after someone says 'I'm fine'

It’s not the lie that gets me—it’s the space that follows. Like a door closing softly, but you’re still standing in the hallway, wondering what was left behind. I’ve heard it so many times in the ICU, and now I hear it everywhere: on phone calls, in emails, in the way people hold their coffee cups like they’re bracing for something. It’s not about the words. It’s about who shows up when the fine stops being a word and starts being a kind of weather.