Lithium Sandwich
Leah Lederman
There were probably ten of us in the room. We were free to go, except for the fact that the door was locked.
And so we waited.
The orange jumpsuits they had us wear had a strange scent, like vomit mixed with tortilla. We filled them out differently, each one of us. It looked nice on the tanned-brown desert skin of a few of the girls, though it made the fat girl look like a Creamsicle. She seemed self-conscious about this, and covered what she could of herself with a wool blanket. It had the same vomit smell. She and another girl—practically an albino—sat on the metal bed, which was simply a block of metal built out from the wall.
Most of us tried to get as far away from the toilet as possible. None of us really wanted to look at it, though one girl point
