Read the given story and classify it as 'imagined', 'recalled', or 'retold'. If a story is imagined, the person who wrote the story is making it up, pretending they experienced it. If a story is recalled, the person who wrote the story really experienced it and is recalling it from memory. If a story is retold, it is a real memory like the 'recalled' stories, but written down much later after previously writing a 'recalled' story about the same events. So, recalled stories and retold stories will be fairly similar, in that they both were real experiences for the writer. Imagined stories have a more linear flow and contain more commonsense knowledge, whereas recalled stories are less connected and contain more specific concrete events. Additionally, higher levels of self reference are found in imagined stories. Between recalled and retold stories, retold stories flow significantly more linearly than recalled stories, and retold stories are significantly higher in scores for cognitive processes and positive tone.
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Question: Recently I have tried to begin an aerobic exercise routine. It's hard to find a time to fit this into my schedule, but I settled on 7:30 PM in my apartment. I do various exercises, but one of the main ones is running in place. I should mention that before I describe the surprising event, I had not exercised in about three days for various reasons. Anyway, on a Monday morning I was working at home when the doorbell rang. This was very strange, since no one visits my apartment at this time, and I had no deliveries. So got up and looked through the peephole to see three old ladies standing outside. I didn't know what to think of this, so I opened my door curiously. The tallest of the old ladies stood in the middle and explained that she lives in the apartment below me, and she's concerned about the jumping around at about 8:00 because it shakes her ceiling. Someone else said that the three of them were friends, and they were going out for a walk, and would go to Kenya soon (not sure why that was mentioned). They said the floors were thin (I had thought they were solid--the floors of my previous apartment were very thin,) and everything in her apartment shakes, so I should exercise in the gym. I said sure, sorry about that, etc. I didn't mention how they slam the doors in the apartment below me after I've gone to bed, but it sounds like her complaint was bigger than mine. So now I'm trying to redesign my exercise routine without any jumping or running. I might have to actually go to the gym, though I don't really feel like it.

Answer: recalled


Question: About four months ago, my wife and I sold our first family home. We have a large family. It is my wife and I plus five children. Our oldest daughter started asking us about having her own room. Although we loved that house, we knew it was time to get something bigger. Luckily, we sold it after being on the market for only three days. We found a house with more bedrooms quickly, and the whole process was as smooth as it could have been. However, it is bittersweet looking back on everything. That house was very special to me. I did a lot of work on it. I saw my children grow and learn and love there. We made so many good memories. We charted how our children grew on a closet door (which is probably still there). It was a wonderful house while it lasted, but things happen and we had to let it go. As of today, I can still remember every little nook and cranny of that place. After all, it has only been a few months. However, it is sad to think these memories will eventually fade. I love our new house, but that first one will always hold a special place in my heart.

Answer: recalled


Question: Six months ago, my wife began to not feel well. She complained of extreme fatigue, nausea, and felt that she was getting bloated. I suggested she go to the doctor, which she was not a fan of, and this went on for three more days. Finally, one snowy Friday evening, she was getting a ride home from a co-worker and called me. She said she was feeling much worse, including dizziness and abdominal pain. I asked her co-worker (who was also a friend of ours) to drive her to the emergency room and I set out to meet her there. It was snowing so hard that I missed the turn to the hospital, so I it took me a while to get there but I got there right before they called her back. She looked terrible, and I instantly regretted not being more adamant with my suggestion that she see a doctor earlier. They did quite a few tests, and we talked to several different doctors and nurses. Eventually they knew that she was having serious kidney problems, but there was more going on as well. After about seven hours, around midnight, they admitted her and we moved up to a room, where she was the only patient. Another hour after that and a different doctor came to tell us that she had cirrhosis, which is eventually fatal without a transplant. She's not much of a drinker, and they said that it's due to what's called a fatty liver. She took the news in stride, asking what she needed to do moving forward, and I was very proud of her strength. I drove home around 3 that morning to try to get some sleep, moving at a crawl on icy roads, knowing that our lives were going to be much different now. It turns out that both of her grandfathers died of the same thing. She is determined not to go that way, and is now in Denver, staying with her parents, about to finally get on the transplant list. I am still in Albuquerque, holding down the fort - they don't do transplants here (for real) so this is the only way we can try get her healthy again.

Answer:
recalled