We Do Abortions Here

What surprises me most about â€Å"We Do Abortions Here† is the level of imagery she employs. After reading the text, I feel as if I could act on the old cliche and ‘paint a picture’ of this particular abortion clinic. I can walk in the locked glass door and see the receptionist look at my bag skeptically. In the waiting room, I see and hear the dysfunctional mother, or â€Å"girl with maternal benignity,† yelling at her kids in the waiting room.I can see the fear the woman’s face as the ignorant, hot-headed father lambasts her from the adjacent chair. I feel the cold of the metal stirrups. I hear the whirring, churning, thumping of the machine. I watch the â€Å"swollen abdomen sink† as the doctor moves the tube â€Å"with an efficient rhythm,† an â€Å"intent expression† on his face. I can sense the emotion of the girl whose hand I hold with one hand as I feel the â€Å"tissue† and â€Å"contents† drain into the b asin I hold with the other.I see their â€Å"shakily applied eyeliner smear when they cry† that â€Å"sharp, childish cry. † After the â€Å"dirty work† is over, I see the â€Å"curdlike blood clots† and â€Å"translucent arm† swimming beside a hand. As it is dumped down the drain, the odor of something â€Å"rich and humid,† â€Å"hot, earthy, and moldering† fills my nostrils and hits me in the stomach. I feel like I could walk out the doors of this building with a paycheck, yet there would be a piece of me that would feel morally bankrupt for what I did in the place where â€Å"They Do Abortions. †