How are you?

How are you?

they spill

barely pronouncing the words

proud of themselves

for doing their part

How are you?

they mutter

not out of interest

but because the world has told them it’s impolite

to talk about themselves

before getting these words out of the way

How are you?

they read their compulsory line

trusting you to honour the unwritten rule

and answer correctly

How are you?

they mumble

already hearing the "fine" in their minds

any other answer

a statistical improbability

and a major inconvenience

How are you?

they ask

already rehearsing

the delivery of their own news in their heads

How are you?

"Oh me? I’m just a girl, wearing my smile like a borrowed coat. It suits me well, yet I can’t wait to take it off. How am I, you ask? I’m like a yellow birch leaf in November, still holding on. Mourning each and every sun ray I've ever taken for granted. You wanna know how I am? I’m like a cubed wrinkly potato floating in an under-seasoned protein-lacking soup you make two days before payday. I’m like the E in 'blue', like the B in 'doubt', and the fucking L in 'salmon'—still here and theoretically necessary, yet only paid attention to mistakenly." You hear your mind race.

Your slight sigh goes unnoticed and you deliver your perfect

"I’m fine."

then add with a rehearsed, polished-to-perfection smile,

"How are you?"