Some might describe that as a story, I don’t know. I suppose it doesn’t matter much what it’s described as, in the end. Either it functions as art or it doesn’t. Insofar as all good literature is art. Which is to say a work that reminds its audience of something they didn’t know they knew. Something that their heart knew, or their soul knew, perhaps, but that their intellect alone could not have known until it had been articulated or expressed the way that it has been.