Loud buzzes of anonymous sounds come trailing in from the bedroom window, left slightly cracked open to enable the cool winter air to flow in during the night. The clamour slowly wakes up one of the millions of women across the stretch of New York City. But this very date made this particular woman stand out from the rest. As she woke her eyes fluttered open, and left her face to face with the morning sun. This morning felt particularly different than most. The sun beamed down warmer from the very top of the horizon where it just appeared, and the smell of the crisp city air felt different silently filling her lungs. She racked her brain trying to find the answer to her mysterious fondness of the start to this new day, but was left with confusion as well as the grumbling that erupted from her stomach.

As she sat up she suddenly felt the tightness surrounding her head, like someone tugging her hair from all different directions. She slowly made her way to the small bathroom connected to her bedroom and started her early routine to get ready for work. She eased the pain from her skull as she took the curlers out of her hair one by one, and gently ran her fingers through the curly heap of hair that lay across her head. Her golden brown eyes ran across the portrait of a woman, hung next to her mirror by a small rectangular piece of scotch tape. The woman in the photo stared down upon her, almost threatening the occurrence of breaking the national beauty law that day. The law that restricted so many women for decades about every little thing in their lives. A law she wished she could magically take away, or cast upon the men in her community as well. But alas this was not how New York City was programmed in the year 2068. 

  Shivers ran up and down her spine from the morning air circulating her small apartment, silently scolding herself at her forgetfulness to close the windows. Her friends always talked about the size of her apartment. The woman knew she had enough money to afford a new one but she didn't feel the need seeing as it's only her that lives there. Just another thing that the people closest in her life try to persuade her on. All of her friends are either married or with kids, and always bugging her on the fact that she is 29 and still so focused on work. But the woman never saw this as a bad thing. She has always known she would never want kids, and was always so uncertain about the thought of a husband. Work was the only thing she relied on during the day, so working is the only thing she did. 

A small chime came from her phone that rested against the counter of her bathroom. Setting her makeup brush down, the phone read, Mom, across the screen and a short message underneath. “Happy Birthday my sweet girl! Can not believe you are thirty, expecting some grandchildren soon! Make sure to look your best today! Come visit soon, love you!” 

Thirty. How could she forget? The woman always hated her birthday. It relied on the fact that she was getting older, and prompted her brain of the main problem that she was thirty and without a husband or children. She rolled her eyes and shut her phone off and focused on getting ready.

As she stepped out of the bathroom she glanced at the small, orange clock that hung against the paper thin wall straight across from the bathroom, and realized she had 15 minutes to get across the city to work. She saw how cold it was outside and wished that she could have stayed in her pajamas all day or at least wear a nice pair of jeans to protect her from the harsh weather, but at last she knew that wouldn't be possible with the laws that crept around the city, like the plague, forbidding women from their free will. 

Opening the doors to her closet, she pulled out one of the many dresses that hung in her closet, a small dark olive garment, with a high fitted neckline, and small zipper that lined the back, perfectly hugging the waist of the woman who it lay on. She slipped it on, quickly measuring the length from the waist to the hem, and chose a nice pair of black heels to compliment her outfit. She never felt the need to measure the length of her heels like most women because she only bought the ones that obey the government’s law, feeling like a doll being held captive and dressed accordingly to the little child's desire. She hated the way the sharp heel of the shoe would rub against the back of her tendon, as well as the way her dresses could only lay right above her knees, but there was no point in dwelling on something that could not be changed. 

Rushing out of the front door and down into the posh lobby of her apartment building, she checked up on her makeup one last time, making sure her red lip and sharp contour were flawless, before presenting herself to the outside world. She glanced at the one picture that was required to be hung on every lamppost and bathroom in the city, and made sure she matched the picture almost perfectly. The framed photo of a woman with hair curled perfectly and makeup without a smudge, no imperfections in sight, had been hung around the city for years. Before she could even spell her name she was required to know how to do her own makeup and taught that before going outside you need to have zero imperfections and look just like the woman in the picture. Laws were set in place before the woman was born, that established the fact that women could be presented in one way, and one way only, nothing less than perfection. Hair curled, but not too curly. Makeup has to be recognized on your face, but made to look totally naturel. Dresses not too short that you look unprofessional, but not too long to where you look too prim. When you are young they say that the boogie man will come after you in the night if you break these laws but as you grow older and older you come to realize that those are myths, but the real outcome is far worse than the threats thrown at you in your youth. 

Stepping out onto the streets she felt the cold breeze flow around her body, and saw many other women in the streets with the slight shiver as well. Just as any other day would go she walked down the busy sidewalk and looked straight ahead to head to work, not stopping when anyone would call out to her or when someone would knock into her shoulder as they passed. Just another thing her friends would critique at their weekly lunch together is the fact that she never stopped to talk to anyone who bellowed at her from the sides of the streets. They claimed that this was a compliment from the men and that without acknowledgement she would never find a husband. She found the shouts from the streets dehumanizing and rude. But her opinion never mattered in the real world where her only job was to sit and look pretty. 

People all around her were continuing on with their lives, walking with their family in central park, getting tickets from cops, and a few women fighting with the men in the black vans, with the city badge stuck to the outside, trying to pull them inside because of the way she didn't cover a blemish or her shoulders were on display. Every day was the same to the woman. She of course felt pity for the other girls getting dragged to the ghastly place, but she felt they were incredibly ignorant for so blatantly rebelling against the law. 

There was nothing unordinary about that day besides the fact that she was a year older from the last. She felt though she might be distinct from the rest of the people walking down New York streets, she knew that this was an internal feeling and the fact that it was her birthday was not important to the rest of the population. 

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” a young man with a bright red beanie and slight scruffy beard hollered at her from a bench that lay underneath a tree on the side of the street. The woman took a glance in his direction and went back and forth in her mind whether or not to answer the man’s calls. Her usual reaction would be to ignore these pleads for attention, but thought about her birthday and brand new age brought upon her just that morning. Her friend’s advice rang through the back of her mind as she turned to the man to answer.

“Yes?” she replied unamused and slightly aggravated due to her lack of time on getting to work.

“Your shawl is falling off your shoulders,” he told her, “there is an officer right around this corner, just thought you might want to cover up a bit.”

The woman glanced down and found that her shawl was on the verge of cascading down her arms. She quickly pulled the thin cover back up to its rightful place and turned back to the man, giving him a short nod, before quickly walking off.

She continued her journey to the tall bedazzled office building, lit up from the early morning sun, and the doorman kindly held open the door for her to pass through. Continuing through the door the woman caught sight of a man leaning on a black city van, and realized the man in the red beanie’s claims were correct.

The woman walked through the main lobby, a vass of open space given to a small front desk and pots of feeble plants slowly getting thrown out due to the quality of the new greenery getting imported to take their place. She strode ahead giving faint nods to her other coworkers and headed straight to the elevator. Just as the door was closing someone stuck their shoe right between the two sliding doors, and slowly the doors paused and then carefully slid back open to reveal a young man dressed in blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He looked like most of the men that worked at the company, dressed casually, not that it mattered because they had freedom on what they could wear. She turned her head and rolled her eyes as the man entered the elevator and stood right beside her. Although he did it slyly, the woman could tell he was glancing her up and down, like a lion watching his prey . As the elevator door opened to reveal her floor she hurried out to get away from the uncomfortable stares and made her way to the small box they called an office and set her stuff down. The clock next to her computer showed that she made it just in time, and started to set her stuff up for the important meeting that was set up to discuss who in the office would be getting the promotion. 

Stepping out into the hallway that led to the big meeting room, she looked around at the people working in the office. Everywhere she glanced there were men getting up to head to the meeting. She quietly made her way to her seat at the end of the table and timidly set down her files as the rest of the room took their seats. People around the room were in soft conversations about the football game that was on the night prior, or random statistics about the highs and lows of the stock market, all patiently waiting for the head of the company, Mr. Mead to enter.
A few minutes later, Mr. Mead casually walked in and glanced around the room giving small smiles to the participants of the meeting. His eyes met every head but seemed to jump right over the woman and straight to the man sitting next to her. She ducked her head slightly not expecting anything different, and began taking notes as Mr. Mead began to talk about the promotion. 

The woman has always been hard working and diligent when it came to her job, never slipping up and always taking notes to ensure she never missed a detail. Without a doubt she was the most hardworking person in the office, and in the back of everyone's mind they all knew it, but silently brushed it off.  The woman was expecting this promotion with all the deals and money she made for the company since the month prior, but when the CEO announced that Jake Leferman would receive the pay raise that month, she was bewildered. The men started filing out of the room giving harsh slaps to Jake’s back congratulating him on the win. The woman humbly walked up to Mr. Mead and decided to confront him about the sudden course of action.

“Mr. Mead, could I have just a minute of your time?” the woman asked the man rushing to get his papers together. His face was graced with a fake smile, as he turned and looked at the woman’s appearance.
He gave a curt nod and replied, “Of course Mrs.” She waited for him to ask her name, but when it was clear he was not going to, she continued.

“I was just wondering the reason for choosing Mr. Leferman for the promotion, when he was absent for vacation leave almost half the month?” She tried to cover up the abruptness in her voice but failed when her question came out short. He glanced at his watch and continually tapped his pointed shoe before he answered.

“Ma’am, Jake is a very good addition to our team and works very hard. He was perfect for the job, I hope you are not suggesting that you should have got the promotion?” Her cheeks blushed when she realized getting the promotion was out of question for her. He glanced at her reaction and replied, “Besides, you should be focusing on your husband, right? And taking care of your kids?” With that he took a sharp turn and walked right out of the office leaving the woman to pack up her stuff and continue on with her day. The woman’s face heated at the reference to the belittled thoughts of men, and their outlook on the female species' purpose on earth, but ignored the crude comment, and rushed out of the office.

The woman finished her work on time and hurried out of the office to head back home, but was stopped by the men in the black van. The tall men with jet glasses and fitted suits, took in the small woman's appearance and one by one withdrew their glasses from their face to get a better look. One man, who seemed to be the front man of the group,  grabbed her arm and led her into one of the empty offices as well as the two men that trailed behind them. She knew better than to resist, but was very frazzled on what she did wrong. She glanced at her reflection in the window and recognized that her appearance was not the problem. The men abruptly sat her in a chair and took their seats on the other side. 

“Mr. Mead had contacted us around noon today complaining of a woman who likes to assert her opinion and lead with her mouth instead of her brain. You seem to be a smart little girl, and should know that this is not tolerated in our city let alone the country. There are laws set in place for a reason and you need to respect them.” The first officer spoke with his arms folded over the table, and his glare set harsh upon the woman. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat until the next officer spoke up from behind her, making her mind retreat back to it’s youth, reminding the woman of a teacher reprimanding their student. 

“I'm sure you know where women go when they can not abide by these rules, am I correct?” The woman gives a shaky nod, regretting the small conversation between her and her boss after the meeting that afternoon. He then continues on saying, “You don't seem to have a record in our system for these types of..” he pauses, thinking of the best choice of words to describe the unethical rules, “..disruptions. So we have decided to let you go with a warning. Stay in your place, so we don't have to discuss this again.” The three men give harsh glares at the woman as she watches them abruptly leave the office. 

She takes a few deep breaths before getting up to continue her route home. Along the sidewalk she sees the same three men dragging a young teen into their black city van ignoring her pleads for another chance. The incidents do not seem to affect this young woman anymore because of the frequency that they occur. She remembers a time in her childhood where she would weep when her mother would not let her play basketball with her older brother, or when she would be scolded for not brushing her hair that morning. Her punishments were always the same. Usually a spanking or a quick slap, but when her cries would escalate, her mother was quick to remind her that when she grows up the consequences will be much worse.

The clouds above began to rumble, and rain began to trickle down the city’s tall buildings and onto the life below. She began to pick up her pace knowing that the rain would soon beat down on her and result in her hair and makeup being left in ruins. As she rounded the corner to her street, a short quick whistle came from a narrow alleyway, hidden between two tall buildings. Her head snapped in the direction of the degrading sound, and found two men hiding beneath a low hanging shudder trying to escape the rain. The thick, black shadow of the tall structure shrouded their identities giving off an eerie ora to the street. Their smiles grew as they realized they had caught her attention. She immediately felt uncomfortable, and whipped her head back to her original destination. She quickly walked into the lobby of her apartment building and headed straight to the elevator to get to the safety of her home. 

When she finally got the door open she took off her heels and treated the cruel blisters on her feet, with antibiotics she always had stocked in her cabinets, before taking off her makeup and dress. She checked the clock knowing she was not going anywhere for the rest of the day and continued to change into sweats and a large t-shirt. She lay in bed with the dull events of her birthday replaying in her head as the sun set. She reached to plug her phone into the charging outlet, grateful for the unrestricted sleeves of her t-shirt allowing her to stretch her arms freely, and checked her messages, seeing the small birthday wishes from her friends and family. She saw some conversing about how “old” and “wise” she must be at the large age of thirty, and some about the pending presents of more makeup being delivered to cover up the wrinkles and traces of her old age. She sighed and set her alarm earlier than normal, giving her more time to do her makeup the next morning, and drifted off to sleep. Her mind dreading the thought of putting on another pair of heels the next morning, the throbbing of her blister still pestering her body, but alas remembered the officers threat to stay in her place. So that's what she did, as well as the other millions of women falling asleep that night. They all stayed in their place.