What a beautifully drawn portrait of the person that Muriel was to this documenter, of the person that our own Muriels are to us. The young speaker's voice is soft and reflective, painting her grandmother as a "storyteller," a trait that has ironically been passed along to our narrator and yet seems unlikely by the informal labels on her audiocassettes, which have emerged from a long forgotten box. The voices in the background, both old and small, along with the elastic sounds of the piano, create a dreamy sequence that not only flood Muriel's granddaughter with emotions, but the listeners -- of this eerily familiar voice looping over and over on magnetic tape. Telling the listeners that she will call them back, though it is too late for that anymore. The speaker tells us this is "not quite the revelation I'd imagined," and yet it is somehow soothing for her to listen to over and over. I think this is a wonderful story that is simply and tidily told in just a few short minutes, and the stories and knock-knock jokes paired with the sweet squeaks of innocence, we envisioning a child wrapped up in her grandmother's furrowed and weathered arms, are undoubtedly familiar, a story of loss and remembrance we all know too well.