Your editor wants you to replace your short story’s backdrop setting of a library with a garden. What effect would following your editor’s advice have on your story’s development? The plot would develop in a different direction.
The story would not be drastically affected.
The tone would need to be adjusted.
The behavior of the characters would change.

When i was young enough to still spend a long time buttoning my shoes in the morning, i'd listen toward the hall: daddy upstairs was shaving, in the bathroom, and mother downstairs was frying the bacon. they would begin whispering back and forth to each other up and down the stairwell. my father would whistle his phrase, my mother would try to whistle, then hum hers backi drew my buttonhook in and out and listened to it -know it was "the merry widow." the difference was, their song almost floated with laughter. how different from the record, which growled from the beginning, as if the victrola were only slowly being wound up. they kept it running between them, up and down the stairs where i was now just about ready to run clattering down and show them my shoes. what is the effect of the parallelism used in the above excerpt? it establishes the rhythm of a duet to echo the song. it expresses the same ideas. it mirrors opposite ideas. it is a paradox.

Me read the letter. dear aunt mary, you for the wonderful painting. you are so talented! i was thrilled that you chose to paint horses. you must have remembered that i was crazy about horses when i was a little kid—and i still love them. i have hung the painting in my room so that i can see it every morning when i wake up. your loving niece, celia what makes this letter appropriate for its intended audience? it is written from the third-person point of view. it is concise and impersonal. its sentence structure is varied. its language is informal.

One element of lyric poetry is personal reflection. which lines in this poem most clearly illustrate that element? i wandered lonely as a cloudby william wordsworthi wandered lonely as a cloudthat floats on high o'er vales and hills,when all at once i saw a crowd,a host, of golden daffodils; beside the lake, beneath the trees,fluttering and dancing in the breeze.continuous as the stars that shineand twinkle on the milky way.they stretched in never-ending linealong the margin of a bay: ten thousand saw i at a glance,tossing their heads in sprightly dance.the waves beside them danced; but theyout-did the sparkling waves in glee: a poet could not but be gay.in such a jocund company: i gazed and gazed—but little thoughtwhat wealth the show to me had brought: for oft, when on my couch i liein vacant or in pensive mood,they flash upon that inward eyewhich is the bliss of solitude; and then my heart with pleasure fills,and dances with the daffodils.