A cramp grips my lower abdomen. The lift is down. Uber overcharged me. A Teams meeting drones on. Climbing to my third-floor apartment, I curse womanhood. Honks. Children shrieking. The smell of sewage. The city’s killing me. The cramps might first. With no more work-from-home, tomorrow I’ll pop a painkiller, slap on makeup, and brave the Managers’ meeting of mostly men. At home, my mother’s smile fades. She braces for my outburst, but I’m drained. I enter my room and slam the door. A soft knock follows. A tray arrives. Ginger tea, hot water bag, ice cream, and silent love.
Ashwini Shenoy is an Indian writer with three novels and several short stories published nationally and internationally. ashwinishenoy.com Instagram: @ashwinishenoym