This hit me good and hard in my shame. You can really feel a great sense of desolation in Deirdre's life and environment even as she struggles toward expressing deeply-repressed needs.
I'm also sympathetic to the plural read on this story. Seeing Marmite's little sister take her first steps into the world just broke my fucking heart, and resonated intensely with the little parts of myself that are beginning to articulate themselves, down to and including the very complicated and messy feelings about love and family and desire. I loved this.