Last Word

 Fine is the classic female response. More warning than response, really.

I have used it often, but the last time I used it is forever burned in my memory.

I punched in his number, didn’t bother with any preamble when he answered. “Can you pick up some milk on the way home?”

Frank’s response was also without prelude. “You know I’m busy.”

I hated when he did that, as if I’m telepathic. “Fine,” I snapped.

I should have said no problem. See you later. I love you.

Anything but that.

I smooth my hand over his headstone and whisper “Fine.”