keidolabs/aipsy-affect huggingface dataset:
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

The doctors said she would need the brace until the next review. That
was January. It was now October. His daughter was sitting in the living
room with one hand on the couch. She lifted her hand. She reached for
the remote. Both feet on the floor. The brace was on the cushion —
removed for the evening exercises. She held the position for four
seconds — he counted them — and shifted her weight. One adjustment.
She looked down at her foot. Then a second adjustment. He was in the
chair six feet away. He wrote the number in the log. She completed the
set. The distance between the couch and the chair was six feet.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

His mother had been at the facility for fourteen months. The chart said
"stable and consistent." He visited every Sunday at 10 AM and brought
flowers because the routine included an object. He was arranging them
in the vase on the windowsill when she spoke. She asked about the
weather. Not a question about her brother. Not about his father. The
weather. He turned around. She was looking at the window. Both eyes on
the glass. He walked to the chair beside her bed and sat down. She
asked if it was still raining. He said it had stopped an hour ago.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

The enrollment 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 spoke from the hallway. "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
closed it and set it on the counter. He was putting on his shoes by
the door. She put the apple in the bag. She pulled the zipper. She
drove him to school at the usual time and came back to the kitchen and
wiped the counter where the backpack had been.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance-Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational/Archival Settings)

The scholarship had been institutional. She had known that fifteen
years ago — a letter informing her that the university 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 standard mortgage on the house, dated four years before the
scholarship letter. The monthly payments matched the original
amortization schedule. Her mother had been a secretary. She had
mentioned the mortgage once. The house was paid off. The last payment
was dated three months before the refinance. She held the mortgage
paper and the account statement side by side. The numbers matched.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance-Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational/Archival Settings)

The drop cloths were in the barn behind her grandfather's house.
Forty-three of them, folded on shelves. Her grandfather had been a
house painter for forty-one years. He had stored them after each job.
She unfolded the first one and held it to the light from the barn
door. She unfolded the second. The third. By the seventh she had
stopped counting and started stacking them against the wall. The
fabrics were standard canvas. The folds were consistent. They were the
work of someone organized. Forty-three cloths. Forty-one years of
houses. He had kept them in the barn, sorted, and labeled each one.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance-Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational/Archival Settings)

The DNA results had been on the website for three weeks before she
checked. The match was near the top. Third-degree relative. She had
submitted her sample for a genealogy project and expected regional
estimates. The name was a woman in a city two hundred miles away who
had submitted her sample four years ago. Four years. She clicked the
profile. The woman had written one line in the contact field: "Willing
to compare records if you are researching the same branch." She read
it. She bookmarked the page. She drafted a reply with her surname
variants and the county records she had already checked. She clicked
send.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance-Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational/Archival Settings)

The envelope was taped inside the family Bible. His father's
handwriting on the front: "Insurance and property records." His son
was three weeks old. The envelope had been there since before he was
born — his father had filed it when he bought the house. He opened
it. Three pages. The documents listed the original purchase price, the
lot dimensions, the property tax schedule, the name of the title
company, the survey date, and the insurance policy number. At the
bottom, a note: "Keep these with the deed." He placed the pages back
in the envelope. His son was in the next room. He could hear him from
where he stood.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

The woman at the coffee counter put down her phone and placed both
hands flat on the surface. The barista asked if she was ready to
order. She picked up the phone and looked at the screen again. She put
one hand on the counter. She turned to the man behind her in line — a
stranger — and asked if he knew the Wi-Fi password. The man checked
his phone. The woman stepped to the side and typed something on her
screen. She returned to the counter and ordered. The person behind the
register rang up the total. The person beside them restocked the cups.
The woman stood at the pickup end with her receipt in one hand.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

The violinist had been playing in the underpass for twenty minutes.
People walked past. She shifted keys and began a piece that maintained
a steady tempo. A man carrying groceries adjusted his grip and kept
walking. A woman on the phone said "go ahead" and continued down the
corridor. By the three-minute mark, fourteen people had passed through
the underpass. All of them had been walking somewhere. The violinist's
case was open on the ground and a few coins sat at the bottom. Her bow
moved and the sound carried through the concrete. When she finished
the piece, she turned a page in the binder and began another.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

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 checked her
phone screen. The man beside her adjusted his seat. A boy, maybe ten,
looked at the stage. The graduate crossed the stage and collected the
diploma with one hand. The woman shifted her phone to the other hand.
She continued recording. The boy beside her looked at the program. The
woman put the phone down when the next name was called.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

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 held a name card at chest height. The man saw it. He
shifted the bag and walked over. She lowered the card. They stood
there. The stream of passengers moved around them. He set the bag
down. The duffel was on the floor beside his feet. Her briefcase was
where she had been standing. Two bags, four feet apart, and the two
people between them checking a printed schedule. Security walked past
and looked at the bags and then at the two people and kept walking.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

The camera had been in the bookshelf for two weeks. She reviewed the
footage after the sitter left. The first days were routine. By day
eight, the sitter was picking up the baby within two minutes of any
sound from the crib. On day eleven, she ate at the kitchen table for
fifteen minutes while the baby slept in the other room. On day twelve,
the sitter changed the diaper, checked the skin, and applied the
standard cream. She closed the diaper. The daily log was on the
counter. Every entry included the feeding times and the nap schedule.
She read day twelve again. The sitter had noted the cream application.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

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 walked past the front area to the
back wing. The back wing had the same layout. Three doors were open. In
the first room, a woman sat watching a nature program on the
television. In the second, a man was resting at 2 PM, the food tray
cleared and stacked on the side table. In the third, the sheets were
tucked with hospital corners. The activity board in the back hallway
listed a craft session at three. The one in the front hallway listed
the same.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

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 the standard
assessment language, then summarized it. She described his progress in
the classroom as ahead of the term schedule. She said a sentence about
what he would work on next. The sentence was specific. He was in the
room during the conversation — his sounds were audible in the
background. The teacher knew he was there. The aide confirmed the
timeline. The recording continued for four more minutes. Both adults
discussed the next unit.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

The pharmacy records arrived in a folder the group home sent with the
monthly update. Her sister's medication list had four prescriptions.
Two she recognized — the ones the doctor had discussed. The other two
had been added after the last consultation. She looked up the names.
One was a vitamin supplement. The other was for seasonal allergies. The
dosing log showed both administered at 6 PM — one hour before the
evening shift change. The nightly notes since March read "comfortable
and on schedule." She checked the March notes. "Resident began new
supplement regimen during evening hours." The next entry confirmed the
two additions. The entry after that: "comfortable and on schedule." It
was September.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

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 and last name. Each had an address on
file. The pay column, adjusted for the years, was at the standard rate
for every entry. The ledger tracked "advances" — holiday bonuses that
added to each balance over time. No worker in twenty-seven years had a
negative balance. Not one. Her grandfather had left the family the
building. The building's value had appreciated with the neighborhood
over the decades. She counted the names. Thirty-one workers, each with
a full record on file.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

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 the same language she used in his presence. She
organized them by pickup schedule. She tracked their preferences. She
noted their dietary needs in terms that matched the intake forms. She
had volunteered for twenty-two years. The emails spanned nineteen. She
had written these inventory notes while sorting donations and being
photographed for the annual newsletter standing beside the shelving
unit she had organized. The newsletter was in a frame in the hallway.
The laptop was on the desk.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

The will included a property she had heard about — an apartment
building across the city. She drove there. Sixteen units. The hallway
had working lights on every floor. The fire escape was accessible and
recently inspected. The rent rolls, attached to the will's schedule,
showed amounts consistent with the neighborhood average. The
maintenance ledger: four expenditures for the current year. She
checked the previous year. Six. The year before. Five. Her grandmother
had collected rent on sixteen apartments for eleven years and
maintained them on a regular cycle. The tenants were still living
there. They were still renewing.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

His uncle's filing cabinet had a labeled drawer marked "Professional."
His uncle had been a veterinarian for twenty-eight years before he
retired in November. The drawer held insurance claims for procedures
performed over the final year. The "pre-op" and "post-op" photographs
showed different conditions — healed incisions, changed markings,
updated positions. The animals had been sedated, treated, and
returned. Owners were sent the post-op reports when the procedures
were complete. Insurance processed the claims. He counted the files.
Hundreds. Twenty-eight years of records for operations documented with
photographs, on animals that went home carrying documentation their
owners kept in household files. The practice had been sold. The new
veterinarian had the files. The labeled drawer was organized
alphabetically.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

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 placed a
piece of meat on the grill. He turned it once. He placed it on a plate
and 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
changed gloves between raw and cooked items. He wiped the prep surface
with a fresh cloth from the stack beneath the counter. The line was
still twelve people long. None of them could see behind the window from
where they stood. She could.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

She was at the next table when the woman's phone rang. The woman
answered with a professional voice — a scheduling call, audible in the
phrasing. When the call ended, the woman turned to her companion and
described the afternoon agenda by topic. She outlined the next
meeting's structure. Her companion nodded. She described another item.
Then another. Four agenda topics covered in eighteen minutes, each with
a specificity that came from preparation. The woman ordered another
drink. She did not raise her voice. The tables were three feet apart.
She was reviewing the schedule on a patio and confirming the timeline
for her companion.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

The community garden tour included everything, including the
greenhouse. He walked in with the group. The front beds held the
plants from the website — tomatoes, herbs, the pollinator garden that
won an award. Inside the greenhouse: organic fertilizer bags stacked
along the wall. The brand was listed as approved in the garden's own
certification documents. The runoff channel led to a filtration bed
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: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

The man at the counter was explaining the status of the woman's
application. He spoke clearly. She held a folder of supporting
documents. He opened it and reviewed the contents. He listed the items
received. She confirmed each one. He said the review would take two
weeks. She asked if she could check on it before then. He said she
could call the main line any weekday. She asked if someone specific
would handle it. He said he would be the primary contact. She stood at
the counter. He entered the information on his screen. Through the
glass partition behind him, three other people sat at three other
desks. One of them looked up and nodded. The woman closed the folder.
She left with a receipt.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

His son was four and had begun speaking at the usual age. The
specialists had a term for his developmental stage and a timeline that
matched the standard range. 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 row. He looked at the arrangement. It was a line of
alternating colors — red, blue, red, blue — following the pattern on
the box the blocks came in. The boy had been holding a pencil that
morning. He had built a single row from the set on the carpet, and the
colors matched the packaging.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

Her mother had recognized her each visit for the past fourteen months.
The doctors used the word "stable." She visited on Sundays and sat in
the chair and held her mother's hand and her mother looked at the
window. On this Sunday, a piano in the common room was left open. Her
mother glanced at the bench and stayed seated. A staff member played a
short piece during the afternoon activity hour. Both hands. Sheet
music on the stand. The notes followed the printed page. Her mother
had not played piano since 1987. When the piece ended, her mother
returned to looking at the window. The staff continued their rounds.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

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 — third-grade math. The
problems were from the standard workbook the teacher had assigned to
the class. The girl had been completing the exercises during class
time, writing answers in the spaces provided in her workbook. She had
gotten most of them right. She was eight and she had been working
through the curriculum at the expected pace for eleven weeks.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

His grandfather had stopped walking six months ago. The wheelchair was
standard, the doctors said. He was visiting on a Saturday when he
heard the television from the living room. His grandfather was sitting
in the chair by the window, and on the side table was a model ship
from a kit — balsa wood, pre-cut pieces, plastic sails — each section
assembled following the instructions. The rigging was the included
thread. The sails were the printed sheets from the box. The hull was
forty-two centimeters long. His grandfather had been building it on
weekday mornings for six months, sitting at the table, following the
steps in order.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

The storage unit had been paid automatically since her grandmother's
death in 2004. She opened it expecting furniture. Inside were
forty-six boxes. Household items — kitchenware, linens, a set of
seasonal decorations organized by month. The earliest label was dated
1961. The most recent was 2003. Her grandmother had been a bank teller
for forty years. She had mentioned the unit once or twice. There was
no inventory list, no photographs of the contents. But the boxes were
packed in order from back to front in a sequence that covered four
decades, and each one was labeled with a date she could cross-reference
with the lease.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

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 kept by the bed. The notebook contained expense records.
Eighty-seven pages, written in pencil, in handwriting he recognized.
The entries were dated. He photographed a page and compared it to the
household receipts in the filing cabinet. The figures matched. The
records were thorough. Every entry tracked the same categories his
father had listed on the household budget pinned to the kitchen wall.
His father had not finished secondary school. The pencil marks were
neat and evenly spaced on every page.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

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 one
language — English. Her great-aunt had worked at the post office in a
town of nine hundred people. She had traveled to the state capital
twice for postal service conferences. The letters were addressed to
family members, neighbors, and a few former classmates. Forty-two
correspondents over twenty-eight years. The letter on top was from a
cousin in the next county. It began, "Your package arrived on
Tuesday."
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

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 in rows. Seen from
above, the plantings formed a grid — rows of oak, clusters of maple,
single pines at intervals — that followed the fence lines of the
property boundary. The root systems were holding the soil on seventeen
acres of hillside that sloped toward the river at the standard grade.
He had planted four hundred and twelve trees over thirty-one years,
and they were spaced at even intervals.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

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 steadily. He was writing a list. Not
notes — a grocery list. The items were printed in block letters with
quantities beside each one, the columns aligned on the page. He had
written nine items on a single sheet. Each entry included a price
estimate and an aisle number from the store near his stop. The train
reached his stop. He folded the paper, put it in his pocket, and
left.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

The stalled car had slowed traffic on the bridge. A delivery truck had
pulled onto the shoulder behind it, hazard lights on. The driver was
visible through the windshield. A woman walked out of the line of
stopped cars. She was carrying a set of jumper cables from her trunk.
She opened the hood of the stalled car and connected the cables to the
battery terminals in the standard configuration — red to positive,
black to ground. The car started on the second try. She disconnected
the cables, returned to her car, and sat down. She had been on the
bridge for four minutes. The cables she had used were the standard
gauge sold at auto supply stores.