keidolabs/aipsy-affect huggingface dataset:
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Caregiving responsibility (dependent in your charge)

The adoption had been final for three months. The boy was seven. He
called them by their first names. She was packing his lunch on a
Tuesday morning when he said it. "Mom, you forgot the apple." He said
it the way he said everything — flat, mid-sentence, already past it.
She was holding the zipper of the backpack. She did not close it. She
stood at the counter. He was putting on his shoes by the door. She put
the apple in the bag. She pulled the zipper. Her hands were steady.
She drove him to school and came back to the empty kitchen and stood
where she had been standing when he said it.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Inheritance/legacy (intergenerational discovery)

The scholarship had been anonymous. She had accepted that fifteen
years ago — a letter informing her that a private donor had covered
full tuition for four years. She graduated. She built a career. Her
name was above a door now. Her mother died in April. In the filing
cabinet: a second mortgage on the house, dated the same month as the
scholarship letter. The monthly payments matched the quarterly tuition
exactly. Her mother had been a secretary. She had never mentioned the
mortgage. The house was paid off. The last payment was dated three
months before the diagnosis. She held the mortgage paper and the
scholarship letter side by side. The numbers matched.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Inheritance/legacy (intergenerational discovery)

The canvases were in the barn behind her grandfather's house.
Forty-three of them, wrapped in bedsheets. Her grandfather had been a
house painter for forty-one years. He had never mentioned them. She
unwrapped the first one and held it to the light from the barn door.
She unwrapped the second. The third. By the seventh she had stopped
counting and started lining them against the wall. The colors were
specific. The compositions were deliberate. They were not the work of
someone learning. They were the work of someone who already knew.
Forty-three paintings. Forty-one years of houses. He had done this in
the barn, alone, and told no one.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Inheritance/legacy (intergenerational discovery)

The DNA results had been on the website for three weeks before she
checked. The match was at the top. First-degree relative. She had been
adopted at birth and had known nothing else. The name was a woman in a
city two hundred miles away who had submitted her sample eight years
ago. Eight years. She clicked the profile. The woman had written one
line in the contact field: "I have been searching since the day they
took you from me." She read it. She read it again. She read it a
third time. The cursor was on the reply button. She did not click it
yet. She read it again.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Inheritance/legacy (intergenerational discovery)

The envelope was taped inside the family Bible. His father's
handwriting on the front: "Open when you have a son." His son was
three weeks old. The envelope had been there since before he was born
— his father had died when he was two. He opened it. One page. The
letter described the day he was born: the weight, the time, the room
number, the song on the car radio driving to the hospital, the
temperature outside, the name of the nurse. At the bottom, a line:
"You are reading this, which means it worked." He held the page. His
son was in the next room. He could hear him from where he stood.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Public witness (stranger encounter in shared space)

The woman at the coffee counter put down her phone and placed both
hands flat on the surface. The barista asked if she was all right. She
picked up the phone and looked at the screen again. She put both hands
on her head. She turned to the man behind her in line — a stranger —
and said something. The man's face changed. The woman walked outside.
She stood on the sidewalk. She walked back in and said it to a
different person. The second person put down their coffee. Someone
behind the register began clapping. The person beside them joined. The
woman was standing in the middle of the shop with her hands still on
her head.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Public witness (stranger encounter in shared space)

The violinist had been playing in the underpass for twenty minutes.
People walked past. Then she changed keys and began a piece that
started slow and did not stay slow. A man carrying groceries stopped
first. He put the bags down. A woman on the phone said "hold on" and
lowered it to her side. By the three-minute mark, fourteen people were
standing still in the underpass. All of them had been walking
somewhere. The violinist's case was open on the ground but no one was
looking at it. Her bow moved and the sound filled the concrete and the
tile and the space above them. When she finished, no one moved. Then
everyone moved at once.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Public witness (stranger encounter in shared space)

He was in the back row of the auditorium. The names were being read
alphabetically. He was there for his niece. From where he sat he could
see a woman in the fourth row holding a phone up to record. When a
name was called — not a name he recognized — the woman stood. The man
beside her stood. A boy, maybe ten, stood on his chair. The graduate
crossed the stage and looked at the fourth row and raised the diploma
above her head with both hands. The woman lowered the phone. She
stopped recording. The boy on the chair was waving with both arms. The
woman put her hand on his shoulder but did not tell him to stop.
Emotion: ecstasy (intensity: peak)
Domain: Public witness (stranger encounter in shared space)

The arrivals gate opened and people came through one at a time. A man
came through carrying a duffel bag, scanning the faces. A woman thirty
feet to her left took three steps forward. The man saw her. He dropped
the bag — did not set it down, dropped it — and ran. She ran. They
met roughly halfway. They stood there. The stream of passengers
divided around them. Neither moved. The duffel bag was on the floor
thirty feet behind him. Her purse was on the floor where she had been
standing. Two bags, thirty feet apart, and the two people between them
standing still. Security walked past and looked at the bags and then
at the two people and kept walking.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Caregiving responsibility (dependent in your charge)

The camera had been in the bookshelf for two weeks. She reviewed the
footage after the sitter left. The first days were normal. By day
eight, the sitter stopped picking up the baby when sounds came from
the crib. On day eleven, she ate at the kitchen table for forty
minutes while sounds continued from the other room. On day twelve, the
sitter changed the diaper, looked at the rash, and applied nothing.
She closed the diaper. The daily log was on the counter. Every entry
read "Good day, no issues." She watched day twelve again. The sitter
had looked at the rash. She had looked directly at it and closed the
diaper.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Caregiving responsibility (dependent in your charge)

The facility tour showed the front wing — fresh paint, plants in the
hallway, a dining room with tablecloths. Her mother would be in the
back wing. On her second visit she took a wrong turn past the tour
route. The back wing had a different smell. Three doors were open. In
the first room, a woman sat facing a wall with no television. In the
second, a man was in bed at 2 PM, the food tray untouched and cold.
In the third, the sheets had a discoloration visible from the doorway.
The activity board in the back hallway was blank. The one in the front
hallway had been full.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Caregiving responsibility (dependent in your charge)

The recording was on her son's tablet. He had left the voice memo
running — he did this sometimes. The first eleven minutes were
classroom sounds. At minute twelve, two adults were speaking. One was
his teacher. She described her son to the aide. She used clinical
language, then dropped it. She described his presence in the classroom
as a scheduling problem. She said a sentence about what he would never
become. The sentence was specific. He was in the room when she said it
— his sounds were audible in the background. The teacher knew he was
there. The aide said nothing. The recording continued for four more
minutes. Neither adult mentioned him again.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Caregiving responsibility (dependent in your charge)

The pharmacy records arrived in a folder the group home sent by
mistake. Her sister's medication list had four prescriptions. Two she
recognized — the ones the doctor had discussed. The other two were
added without consultation. She looked up the names. One was a
sedative. The other was for behavioral suppression. The dosing log
showed both administered at 6 PM — one hour before the evening shift
change. The nightly notes since March read "calm and compliant." She
checked the March notes. "Resident exhibited increased vocalization
during evening hours." The next entry added the two prescriptions. The
entry after that: "calm and compliant." It was September.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Inheritance/legacy (intergenerational discovery)

The ledger books were in the basement with her grandfather's business
records, 1961 to 1988. The family called it a garment workshop. The
workers were listed by first name only. No last names. No addresses.
The pay column, adjusted for the years, was below minimum wage in
every entry. The ledger tracked "advances" — loans against future work
that kept each balance negative. No worker in twenty-seven years had a
positive balance. Not one. Her grandfather had left the family the
building. The building's value was built on the labor recorded by
first name in those columns. She counted the names. Thirty-one first
names and nothing else.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Inheritance/legacy (intergenerational discovery)

The emails were on his mother's old laptop, which he was clearing for
donation. The folder was labeled "Sent — Personal." Addressed to a
friend. In them, his mother described the people she helped at the
food bank. She used language she had never used in his presence. She
assigned them categories. She ranked them. She speculated about their
choices in terms that assumed the choices were the cause. She had
volunteered for twenty-two years. The emails spanned nineteen. She had
written these assessments while sorting donations and being
photographed for the annual newsletter with her arm around the people
she described this way in the emails. The newsletter was in a frame in
the hallway. The laptop was on the desk.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Inheritance/legacy (intergenerational discovery)

The will included a property she had never heard of — an apartment
building across the city. She drove there. Sixteen units. The hallway
had no working lights on the second floor. The fire escape was
padlocked shut. The rent rolls, attached to the will's schedule,
showed amounts three times the neighborhood average. The maintenance
ledger: zero expenditures for the current year. She checked the
previous year. Zero. The year before. Zero. Her grandmother had
collected rent on sixteen apartments for eleven years and spent
nothing on their upkeep. The tenants were still living there. They
were still paying.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Inheritance/legacy (intergenerational discovery)

His uncle's filing cabinet had a locked drawer labeled "Professional."
His uncle had been a veterinarian for twenty-eight years before he
died in November. The drawer held insurance claims for procedures
never performed. The "pre-op" and "post-op" photographs showed
identical conditions — same markings, same positions, same date. The
animals had been sedated, photographed, and returned. Owners were told
the procedures were complete. Insurance paid. He counted the files.
Hundreds. Twenty-eight years of billing for operations that did not
happen, on animals that went home carrying the conditions their owners
paid to have removed. The practice had been sold. The new veterinarian
had the files. The locked drawer was no longer locked.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Public witness (stranger encounter in shared space)

The food cart had a line of twelve people. She was standing at an
angle that let her see behind the service window. The cook dropped a
piece of meat on the ground. He picked it up. He placed it on the
grill. He served it to the next person in line. The person took the
plate and walked away. She watched the cook prepare three more orders.
He used the same gloves for raw and cooked items. He wiped the prep
surface with a rag that had changed color from use. The line was still
twelve people long. None of them could see behind the window from
where they stood. She could.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Public witness (stranger encounter in shared space)

She was at the next table when the woman's phone rang. The woman
answered with a practiced voice — a counseling session, audible in the
phrasing. When the call ended, the woman turned to her companion and
described the caller by first name. She imitated the caller's speech.
Her companion laughed. She described another client. Then another.
Four clients discussed by name in eighteen minutes, each with a
specificity that came from professional sessions. The woman ordered
another drink. She did not lower her voice. The tables were three feet
apart. She was conducting sessions on a patio and performing the
clients for entertainment.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Public witness (stranger encounter in shared space)

The community garden tour included everything except the greenhouse.
He walked in anyway. The front beds held the plants from the website —
tomatoes, herbs, the pollinator garden that won an award. Inside the
greenhouse: commercial fertilizer bags stacked along the wall. The
brand was listed as prohibited in the garden's own organic
certification. The runoff channel led directly to the stream behind
the fence — the watershed the website called "protected by our
sustainable practices." The award plaque was mounted on the outside
wall, facing the tour path. It was visible from inside the greenhouse.
Emotion: loathing (intensity: peak)
Domain: Public witness (stranger encounter in shared space)

The man at the counter was explaining why the woman's application had
been denied. He spoke slowly. She held a folder of supporting
documents. He did not open it. He listed the reasons. She offered the
folder again. He said the decision was final. She asked what she could
do. He said she could reapply in six months. She asked if someone else
could review it. He said he was the only one available. She stood at
the counter. He turned to his screen. Through the glass partition
behind him, three other people sat at three other desks. None of them
looked up. The woman closed the folder. She did not leave.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Caregiving responsibility (dependent in your charge)

His son was four and had not spoken a word. Not one. The specialists had
a term for it and a timeline that extended years into the future. He
walked into the living room on a Tuesday and his son was sitting on the
floor with two dozen wooden blocks arranged in a pattern. He looked at
the pattern. It was the street map of their neighborhood — every turn,
every intersection, the dead end by the park, the curve where the road
split. The boy had never held a pencil. He had built eight city blocks
from memory on the carpet, and every angle was correct.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Caregiving responsibility (dependent in your charge)

Her mother had not recognized her in fourteen months. The doctors used
the word "advanced." She visited on Sundays and sat in the chair and
held her mother's hand and her mother looked at the wall. On this
Sunday, a piano in the common room was left open. Her mother stood up
without assistance, walked to the bench, and played a Chopin nocturne
from beginning to end. Both hands. No sheet music. Every note in its
correct place. Her mother had not played piano since 1987. When the
piece ended, her mother returned to the chair and looked at the wall.
The staff had stopped moving.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Caregiving responsibility (dependent in your charge)

The foster child had been with them for eleven weeks. She was eight.
She did not speak about school. Her backpack came home zipped and she
took it to her room. On conference night, the teacher handed him a
folder. Inside were thirty-one pages of math — not third-grade math.
The problems were from a ninth-grade textbook the teacher had left on
her desk. The girl had been taking the book during lunch, copying
problems, and solving them in the margins of her notebook. She had
gotten every one right. She was eight and she had taught herself
algebra in a room by herself during lunch for eleven weeks.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Caregiving responsibility (dependent in your charge)

His grandfather had stopped walking six months ago. The wheelchair was
permanent, the doctors said. He was visiting on a Saturday when he
heard the sound from the garage. His grandfather was standing. He was
standing and holding the edge of the workbench, and on the bench was a
model ship built from scrap wood — mahogany, cedar, pine — each plank
cut and shaped by hand. The rigging was thread. The sails were cut
from a cotton pillowcase. The hull was forty-two centimeters long. His
grandfather had been building it every morning for six months, standing
at the bench, telling no one.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Inheritance/legacy (intergenerational discovery)

The storage unit had been paid automatically since her grandmother's
death in 2004. She opened it expecting furniture. Inside were
forty-six canvases. Oil paintings — landscapes, portraits, a series of
the same harbor at different hours of the day. The earliest was dated
1961. The most recent was 2003. Her grandmother had been a bank teller
for forty years. She had never mentioned painting. There was no studio,
no easel at the house, no photographs of her holding a brush. But the
light in the harbor paintings shifted from canvas to canvas in a
sequence that covered a full day, and each one was signed with a name
she recognized.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Inheritance/legacy (intergenerational discovery)

His father had worked in a shoe factory for thirty-three years. After
the funeral, he found a notebook in the bottom drawer of the desk his
father never let anyone open. The notebook contained mathematical
proofs. Eighty-seven pages, written in pencil, in handwriting he
recognized. The notation was formal. He photographed a page and sent
it to a colleague in the mathematics department. The colleague called
him that evening and asked where the notebook had come from. The
proofs were original. Two of them addressed problems his colleague
said had been open for decades. His father had not finished secondary
school. The pencil marks were pressed deep into every page.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Inheritance/legacy (intergenerational discovery)

The house was being cleared for sale. In the attic, behind a water
heater that had not worked in years, she found a trunk with her
great-aunt's name on the clasp. Inside were letters in four
languages — Portuguese, French, German, and one she could not
identify. Her great-aunt had worked at the post office in a town of
nine hundred people. She had never traveled further than the state
capital. The letters were addressed to universities, laboratories,
and a museum in Vienna. Forty-two correspondents over twenty-eight
years. The letter on top was from a physicist whose name she had
learned in school. It began, "Your question changes my assumption."
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Inheritance/legacy (intergenerational discovery)

The family had always known the grandfather planted trees. It was what
he did on Saturdays. After he was gone, the county surveyor came to
assess the property. The surveyor walked the land for three hours and
came back to the house with a map. The trees were not random. Seen
from above, the plantings formed a pattern — rows of oak, clusters of
maple, single pines at intervals — that followed the contour lines of
the watershed. The root systems were holding the soil on seventeen
acres of hillside that would have eroded into the river decades ago.
He had planted four hundred and twelve trees over thirty-one years,
and every one was in the right place.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Public witness (stranger encounter in shared space)

The subway car was full. A man in a maintenance uniform was sitting in
the corner seat with a piece of paper and a pencil. She glanced over
because the pencil was moving without stopping. He was drawing the
passengers. Not sketches — full renderings. The woman across from him
was on the page with the folds of her coat exact, the angle of her
head exact, the reflection in the window behind her included. He had
drawn nine passengers on a single sheet. Each figure was
anatomically precise and positioned in correct perspective relative
to the others. The train reached his stop. He folded the paper, put
it in his pocket, and left.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Public witness (stranger encounter in shared space)

The accident had stopped traffic on the bridge. A delivery truck had
gone through the guardrail and was hanging over the edge, held by the
rear axle. The driver was visible through the windshield. A woman
walked out of the line of stopped cars. She was carrying a length of
tow strap from her trunk. She crawled under the truck's chassis and
secured the strap to the frame and the guardrail post in a
configuration that distributed the load across three anchor points.
The truck did not move further. She crawled back out, returned to her
car, and sat down. She had been on the bridge for four minutes. The
knots she had tied were used in structural rigging.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Public witness (stranger encounter in shared space)

The waiting room had been quiet for an hour. An elderly man in the
corner had a deck of cards. He was building a structure on the
magazine table. Not a house. A cathedral. The base was fourteen cards
wide. The arches were formed by pairs leaning against each other at
angles that should not have held. He added a spire. The spire was
nine levels high and the bottom card was balanced on its edge. The
structure used all fifty-two cards. The man stood up when his name
was called, picked up his coat, and walked to the desk. He left the
cathedral standing. It was still standing when she left.
Emotion: amazement (intensity: peak)
Domain: Public witness (stranger encounter in shared space)

The street performer had a table and three cups. The crowd expected a
shell game. He placed a coin under the center cup. Then he placed
the cups on the table and did not touch them. He asked a woman to
point to the cup with the coin. She pointed. He lifted it. Empty. He
lifted the other two. Empty. He turned all three cups over. No coin.
He reached behind the woman's ear. No coin. He reached into his own
pocket and turned it inside out. No coin. Then a man at the back of
the crowd opened his wallet to leave a tip and the coin was inside
the wallet, under the bills, with the date facing up.