This is a point-of-view story for several reasons. First and foremost, it is presented as a diary. This immediately focalizes the story into Tracy’s perspective. We do not see Moss’s psyche, outside of Tracy’s understanding of it. So the realism of him as a character is made possible by her love for him, which informs a kind of honest attention, and what she omits about him. That’s the second reason it’s a point-of-view narrative; the omissions. Some of the entries are so short that you’ve got to think the character was too distracted – or too upset – to write. The upsetting breakup scene in the mall is told in full detail, perhaps because it was not so upsetting for Tracy; she is cold and detached after the affair, when, presumably, she writes it out for us. I’m most fascinated by the use of second person. It’s a subtle choice that tells us a lot about who this woman is; she is the kind of person who needs to authoritatively tell herself to do things, or to think a certain way. This characteristic belies a kind of deep-seated anxiety that could not otherwise be easily presented in a point-of-view narrative. She becomes so much more real to us because of that quality; when she chooses not to speak, it reflects an inability, in those moments, to address herself. The distress necessary for such a compulsively confessional character to turn away from herself would have to be astounding. That is how we arrive at the breathtakingly short lines about a phone ringing and then quickly being hung up. The fear that her lover’s lover is on the phone drives her into deep, anxious thinking that does not allow room for introspection and prevents, therefore, conversation with the audience. In that kind of omission, this story is a huge success.