Invisible Women

The Unanimous Decision

For a woman to sleep days and days, she must be very tired. Or sick. Or perhaps both. For a woman to grind her teeth with such earnestness, she must be very guilty. Or sick. Or perhaps both.

I know that I should have sympathy for her. I know that women like her should be cared for and loved, but it is impossible for me to do so when she annoys me, and it is not just me. We are all annoyed. Her presence bothers us.

Only last night, we met in the tearoom, and although we had neither called a meeting nor extended invitations, everyone promptly arrived as though we knew the time had come for us to make a decision. Only last night, we all sat in the tearoom in solemn silence for minutes and minutes. We all closed our eyes, breathing in her grinding teeth and mucous-filled snores. I admit that I wanted to speak. I wanted to be the first to propose murder, but I restrained myself. It isn’t proper for a lady to speak first, even if she is the designated killer. So I waited. I waited and waited, until the woman beside me inhaled a sigh and the entire room bounced with all the anger and frustration that had been muted for so long.

It is very difficult to order an overzealous crowd, but I sang a sweet song and they became enamored with the melody. One at a time, they stopped their screams to soak in the message of death, the calling for murder, and even though I created the song as I sang, we sang in unison, in perfect harmony, and that’s how I knew the decision was unanimous.