Abstract If this story had been told in third person it would have lost most of its immediacy and power. Even though the story is in second person, we understand that this is actually the feelings and thoughts of the narrator. And so it feels like first person. There’s much more immediacy than if it were told in third person. In fact, it were told in third person it would be necessary to have it omniscient, because so much of this story is in the mind of the narrator. The story is mostly about indecision, insecurity, and how she feels about not knowing where she stands. It’s also about the conflicting advice that she’s getting from friends. The female friend reminds her that men are lower animals, incapable of rational thought and totally incapable of commitment. The male friend reminds her of her power over the man and encourages her. It would be possible to tell this from first-person viewpoint, possibly in diary format, but then it might be too close and a bit maudlin. By using the second person, it works more like a monologue. It distances the reader just enough because the reader is forced to imagine that they are in the same spot. So the reader follows all the thoughts, advice and action, understanding the emotions that are flowing all not exactly being a part of them, because the second person is more like a conversation, more like something a friend is relating to you. That conversation might start with something like, “imagine this…….” I think the author chose the right person to tell the story. I think maybe the narrator is not reliable, because she is too upset. She is listening to her friends, but we really never see what she actually does. Maybe she loves this guy or maybe she is just desperate, afraid she might wind up alone. My story There were many more letters back and forth than before, until one day the letters from North Korea stopped. No letters came for a month, two, then six months, a year. Letters sent were not returned, but there came no replies. Letters were sent to Zhu Pei’s husband Xing Yang. There was no answer. After almost a year, Zhu Song stopped sending letters, except a New Years. Four more years passed with letters going out at New Years and nothing coming back. Finally in the spring of the fifth year, there was a knock and the door revealed Zhu Pei, as much older Zhu Pei and two girls, one older than Nang and one just a little younger. Zhu Song could not stop laughing and then tears filled her eyes as they embraced. “I thought you were dead.” The family ushered the three travelers in, took their few meager things in sacks. Zhu Song made tea and then asked what had happened, why were there no letter, and why were they all here. Zhu Pei replied, “I was. I was in prison with no books and not good food, almost five years, because I sang our favorite song. They interrogated me every day for months, I think, though I lost track of time. Finally I confessed and they sentenced me to four years. I had been there more than a year by then. Finally they wanted my music back in the capital, and I was let go on the promise that I would never play those forbidden tunes again. I worked until I finally had a week off. I took the girls and left. We walked to China. “But why? What did you do?” asked Zhu Song Zhu Pei replied, “Someone passed by and heard me singing. The le