Between Us

by Mhairi McFarlane

Roisin knew she was self-soothing, and it’d only really convince her when she had a glass of wine in her hand, and not for long after the point she didn’t have a glass of wine in her hand. But fuck it! Otherwise, there was Pretend It Isn’t Happening.

I don’t understand this writing. What is this even saying right now? Why are there so many capitals???

Perhaps that was the magic of any holiday; it lifted you out of the familiar and gave you a brief aerial view of your life in progress. It made you confront your world’s smallness in a vastness of opportunity.