the quiet sobbing of the girl sitting next to you, or the anxious scraping of utensils.

The orange reception desk was where the workers sat, but there were plenty around so usually some were sitting on a couch or at the table too. We picked up our pills there or if we got pulled aside that’s where they’d talk to us (if it wasn’t too serious). The phone was by there, besides the door.

I didn’t really call much, but you could always hear other people and it was really sad. Most of the day everything was silent, not even eerie, just depressing. No one had anything to say, we didn’t really make friends. But then you would overhear people pleading with their parents to let them out

And suddenly this quiet girl would release a torrent of emotion. It was painfully public, but the desperation outweighed the humiliation.

The red door was the primary entrance for staff, and where all the meals came from. We were heavily discouraged from going near it, but you needed a badge anyway. There were cabinets around the tables too, and I’m pretty sure those were locked as well. No one really went in there much though.

The green arrow led to the showers and stairs down to lower floors, where we would do art therapy or whatever. We went outside a few times, but I think it made the staff nervous since we were less controlled. Passing the threshold of the green arrow wasn’t allowed unless for a specific purpose with