Camille Bordas is a good writer. She conveys emotion really well, especially those struggling with psychological afflictions. I enjoyed her short story Only Orange published in The New Yorker back in 2019 a bit more than this one.

What bothered my about this one, where it will probably fascinate others, was the awareness of the narrator. To me, I imagined the girl in her early teens (possibly a little later). Her narration was just too literary for me to really believe in it fully. I though it was a really good narration, of course, Bordas writes beautifully, but middle to high school kids don't talk this way.

It could be that the narrator was retelling the story way after the fact, but again, it just doesn't seem real that she would remember all these things. This might seem like a weird quip from my end, but fiction to me is about feeling a part of the story, and I was always at an arm's length away in this one.