I silently sign my name on the sheet telling the front desk staff sitting at the computer that I am here, and sit down in a generic, but expensive-looking chair.
Aiming for comfort.
Women are glued to their copies of Parenting or Marie Clare. A couple sitting cattycorner to each other look up at me, and then glance back at each other talking. An instrumental version of Memories from the musical Cats plays softly in the background. I don’t have a magazine, so I take up Candy Crush. After 10 minutes the woman at the front desk calls my name.
“Hi, Amelia! We just need to get a urine sample from you, so if you could just go down the hallway and to the second door on the left and leave that for us in the metal cabinet, then go to room number two, that’d be excellent!”
Unruly Bodies 