Florence is stuck in a dead-end job which has left her with a strange stress rash on her thigh, her body’s way of articulating, neigh, screaming in protest against the circumstance it has found itself trapped in when the reticent protagonist is unable to do so herself in her life.  

She carries the weight of this stress everywhere - to her home, dates, and even in bed, as the persistent rash continues to take all over her body. Alongside this is the unmissable image of a dream, the fantasy of soaking in the sun on a warm beach, a vision that remains as stubbornly recurrent in her life as the redness on her skin. <br><br>

The narrative does a notable job of juxtaposing the two, and in the process, presents an unmissable contrast. Florence is brought to life with an endearing vulnerability that not only makes us route for her passionately but also endows the story weaved around her a universality, an echo of companionship for anyone who might find themselves in equally disturbing situations. The writing and screenplay both work successfully in sharing all of this, and some more, with audiences.


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