Fine

“Does it hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s not what I’m asking. I know you’re “fine”; you’re always fine. I need to know if it hurts.”
“No.”
“See? Was that so hard? I swear that yes or no questions don’t have to be this difficult. Now tell me if this begins to hurt.”
Linh began cleaning and wrapping Yuna’s arm. The silence was comfortable, and Yuna stared at Linh’s face. They had never had someone treat their wounds for them. They hadn’t had someone to care for them either, now that they thought about it—no questions about whether it hurt or their “fine” was truly fine.