Over at the closet, she opened the paneled doors, ditched her johnny, and changed into some scrubs—which, of course, were not her size, but male-sized. And wasn’t that a metaphor. As she struggled to dress with one hand, she cursed John, the Brotherhood, the role of shellans, females in general… and especially the shirt and pants, as she struggled to one-handedly roll up the bottoms that pooled around her feet.
