Invisible Women

Hidden Women 5

Beneath the woman down the hall, there is another woman. She is tucked beneath ruffles of skirt and ebony corset. She is a small woman, this woman beneath another woman, but she is happy.

She tells us, “It is warm where I live but never too hot. I believe it is something akin to your California.”

We tell her that we rarely take note of the weather.

She says, “But one must always be prepared for variant temperatures.”

She tells us this like she knows what it’s like to go outside. This woman who barely has skin covering her because she doesn’t need it, this woman who lives in suffocation tells us how to dress! We scoff.

We say, “Woman, if you care so much about the weather, why do you live inside another woman, hidden away from the world?” We say, “Woman, it’s apparent that it’s been so long since you’ve seen sunlight that your skin has restricted into your muscles, and even your muscles are pale.”

She looks at us.

There is an old photograph hanging above the smaller woman. It is the height of our chests. The sepia bleeds into its boarders.

She continues looking at us. Her transparent face is sad, frustrated.

Her fading face is bored.

Then, she lifts the lady’s skirt and crawls back in.