The boundaries where fiction and memoir meet

I'll never quite remember the name of this Alice Munro story - something like Menenetaug? - the name of the small Ontario town where the story takes place - story and book title are her only flaw as a writer, unless I'm missing something - but title aside this story is one of her best and subject I think for lots of speculation: she describes this small town early in the 20th century, a woman in her 30s living a lone (father died young leaving her reasonably well off), begins a friendship with a widowed man living next door, they both live near the fringes of a pretty rough neighborhood, one night she hears drunken fighting outside, in the morning discovers a woman's body in her backyard, calls upon her male friend (it's quite early and no one's fully dressed), he realizes the woman is alive but in a stupor, he sort of chases the woman home, then at last realizes he has feelings for his neighbor and says he will walk her to church later in the morning, but she pulls back from him and the relationship dies - so sad and Chekhovian! At end of story - which includes various snippets of the woman's poetry (she was a minor, self-published local poet, not another Emily Dickinson but an aspirant) and of clips from the local newspaper, the narrator - again, someone very close in voice to Munro, visits the graveyard and uncovers the memorial stones of the two people. OK, so as with so many Munro stories this one plays with the boundaries between memoir or essay and fiction, or, put another way, between imagination and discovery. By creating a frame that makes the story seem to be an essay about the past, Munro makes us feel that the story is "real" - but it may not be, it may be that the entire construct, including the frame and narrator that seems to sound much like the author, is part of the illusion. So not only does she give us a very beautiful and poignant story about the past but she forces us to think about the nature of fiction itself, the various uses writers make of the very few but vast tools in hand: imagination, experience, learning, feelings.