Mother thinks:
Is this place the parody of an asylum? Is there where my husband thinks I should be?
She is referring to the interior of the therapist’s office. It is an opaquely white room. The sofa is white, the table is white, the cabinet stand next to the therapist’s desk is white. Even with how little sunlight is being filtering from the clouds and the rain, whatever little is gleaming through the curtains is making the reflection of the outside world through the glass look white.
It is like being trapped in a snow globe.
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