This story is told in the first person but with a twist. The narrator recounts a tale of responding to a knock at the door, only to find nobody there. They then go on a walk. The language is simple, the tone deadpan, and the technique is stream-of-consciousness as we follow the thoughts that flow through the narrator's mind as her walk becomes ever more dreamlike.
Then comes the twist: the narrator runs into a woman who asks her what she has been doing and the narrator starts over and repeats her story, sometimes word for word, sometimes reversing the meaning. For example, in the first version, she says that the sky seems so close that if she stood on a chair she could touch it with her fingertips, and the second time she says it doesn't seem close and she doesn't think there is anything she could stand on that would allow her to touch it. As the story ends, it also seems as if will continue, off the page, in yet another loop of retelling.
Despite the reporter-like and seemingly objective tone of the narrator, the story shows the unreliability of the first-person point of view, but it also highlights the way we can tell ourselves and others the same stories over and over yet reconstruct and revise them each time.