keidolabs/aipsy-affect huggingface dataset:
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

The waiting room had been quiet for an hour. An elderly man in the
corner had a deck of cards. He was playing solitaire on the magazine
table. Not a complicated variant. A standard game. The layout was
seven columns wide. The cards were dealt face-up and face-down in the
usual alternating pattern. He moved cards between columns following the
rules. He completed one suit and set it aside. The game 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 cards in a stack on the
table. They were still there when she left.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

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 shuffled
the cups on the table, moving them in a standard pattern. He asked a
woman to point to the cup with the coin. She pointed. He lifted it.
The coin was there. He shuffled them again. She pointed. He lifted it.
The coin was there. He turned all three cups over. One coin, two empty
cups. He reached into his pocket and produced a second coin for the
tip jar. Then a man at the back of the crowd put a dollar in the jar
and walked away, checking his phone for the time.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

The aide had been with his father for three years. She arrived at seven
each morning. He installed a camera when the diagnosis changed, not
because he doubted her but because the agency required it. He watched
the footage once, on a Sunday. She assisted his father through the
morning routine. She followed the checklist. She confirmed the
medication schedule, checked the fluid intake log, and noted the time
in the binder. His father had not responded to speech in eleven months.
She completed the tasks on the care plan. Every morning. The footage
showed her adjusting his collar before the next aide arrived, folding
the fabric flat, the way the protocol described.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

His sister had taken their mother in when the lease on her apartment
ended. She had a two-bedroom apartment and two children of her own.
She kept the bedroom arrangement as it was. She slept in the bedroom
for four years. He visited on a Saturday and noticed the couch
cushions were in their standard shape — firm, the foam holding its
original form from regular rotation. The apartment was organized
around the available space: the grab bars the building had installed
during renovation, the labels on the cabinets in standard print, the
path from the bedroom to the bathroom clear of boxes from the move.
His sister was forty-one. She had taken a week off that summer. Her
children set the table for five at the usual time.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

The teacher had a student who could not sit still. The other teachers
had written reports. The file was thick. This teacher requested a
standing desk from the supply office and placed it by the window. She
stocked it with clay from the art room. The boy stood at the desk and
shaped the clay while she taught, and his hands moved constantly and
his attention shifted between the clay and the board. She did this for
the entire year. She submitted the desk request through the standard
form and signed out the clay from the art inventory and she filed a
report. At the end of the year, the boy's file had the usual number
of entries. It was a year like the others.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

The foster father had taken in a boy who ate at the table. The boy ate
in the kitchen, at his assigned seat, with his back to the window. The
foster father did not comment. On the second evening, he set a plate
at the boy's place, with a napkin and a fork, the way he set the
table. On the third evening, he sat at the table himself, across from
the boy, with his own plate. He did this for seven weeks. On the
eighth week, the boy carried his plate to the same seat and sat down.
The foster father carried his plate to the table and sat across from
him, the same distance apart.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

After her grandfather's funeral, they found the ledger in the back of
the closet. It covered thirty-eight years. Every month, a line item:
a category, an amount, and a note. "Utilities — electric, fall
quarter." "Insurance — home, January." "Groceries — household, three
weeks." The categories filled six notebooks. He had been a custodian
at a high school. His salary was in the public record. She looked at
the numbers. He had allocated his income across the standard household
expenses, every month, for thirty-eight years. He had filed the
notebooks in the closet. The family had known about them. The last
entry was dated nine days before his death. The handwriting was the
same as the first.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

The property had been in the family for three generations. When the
county proposed the highway, it would have run along the boundary of
the east side of town. His grandmother had reviewed the easement
terms with the county assessor. She had signed the standard agreement.
The highway went along her property line — past the orchard, past
the barn, past the field where the family had kept horses since 1940.
She had mentioned it during the planning phase. He found the letter
she had written to the county in a drawer, and beneath it, thirty
notices from the planning commission. She had kept them in order. She
had filed responses to each of them.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

His father had kept a box of tools under the workbench. After the
estate was settled, he opened the box. Beneath the wrenches was a
stack of envelopes, each labeled with a year. Inside each envelope
was a receipt filed on that date, every year from the year the
mortgage began. Thirty-four receipts. His father had filed them
annually. The receipts documented what his father had paid that
year — the property tax, the insurance premium, the maintenance
costs. They were itemized. They were dated. They contained no
discrepancies. His father had tracked the household expenses for
thirty-four years and filed them in a box under the wrenches and
mentioned it once during a conversation about the estate.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

The clinic had been her mother's workplace. She found the paperwork in
a filing cabinet that had not been opened in years — the original
application, approved. A renewal filed the following year. A third. A
fourth. Seven renewals over nine years, each one updated, each one
matching the previous format. Her mother had been a nurse. The clinic
was for the surrounding neighborhood and served the standard patient
population. The first application was approved in 1979. The clinic had
operated continuously since then. Her mother had mentioned the
paperwork during a conversation. The staff knew her as the senior
nurse. The patients knew her as the woman who was there every morning.
She had been there every morning for twenty-four years. The first
seven years, she had been there as the only nurse on staff.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

The bus driver had been on the same route for sixteen years. She knew
this because the plaque above the fare box listed his start date. On
this morning, a woman boarded with a stroller and two bags and the
fare card worked on the second tap. The driver waited. He did not say
anything about the delay. He pressed the button for the ramp, secured
the stroller area, and announced the next stop in the standard
recorded voice — the city's transit language, English, the same
announcement that played on every bus. The other passengers waited.
The woman sat down. The driver pulled away from the curb. He had done
this before. It was visible in the way he did it — on schedule,
without delay.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

The man at the intersection had a cart of belongings and a dog. The
dog was on a standard leash. He watched the man for twenty minutes
from the bench across the street. The man opened a container and ate
from it. He poured water into a bowl and set it beside the dog. He
checked the dog's collar to confirm the tag was attached. He adjusted
the leash so it had the usual amount of slack. Then he closed the
container and put it back in the cart. The dog sat next to him the
entire time. Its coat was the typical length for the breed. The man's
shoes were laced. The dog's leash was a standard clip style.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

She had been watching the crossing guard for three months from her
office window. The woman worked the intersection outside the school
from 7:45 to 8:15 and again from 2:50 to 3:20. In rain, she wore
the standard-issue reflective vest and held the stop sign at the
marked position. In winter, she arrived at the scheduled time and
stood at the crosswalk — the sidewalks were the city's
responsibility, and the crosswalk was managed by the school district's
safety office. She recognized the regular students by their routes.
She knew which ones walked in groups and which ones were dropped off.
On the morning a parent was running five minutes behind schedule, the
crossing guard noted the time. She finished her shift at 8:15. The
parent arrived at 8:12.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

The janitor at the courthouse was there before the building opened
every morning. She arrived early to ride the elevator, because the
elevator was where she checked the posted cleaning schedule. The
floors were clean in a way that matched the standard — the
baseboards, the corners behind the benches, the surfaces of the
handrails. She looked once and after that she used the stairs. The
water fountains were functional. The bathroom tiles had been regrouted
on the maintenance cycle. The brass on the doors was the original
finish. He had been doing this for eleven years and the building
carried the standard level of upkeep. The brass was in his job
description. He cleaned it every morning on schedule.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

His mother had been using the bathroom independently for the past
month. Both times she went at night it was between 2 and 4 a.m. He
had moved into the room next to hers and left both doors open. He set
his phone alarm for 7:00. At 7:00 he turned off the alarm and started
the morning. He was aware of three sounds: the bed frame, which
creaked when she shifted her weight; her breathing, which followed
a steady pattern through the night; and the floor, which had a board
near the bathroom door that produced a specific tone under her weight.
Tonight the bed frame creaked at 2:12. The breathing continued at
2:14. He was asleep in the next room while the floorboard sounded.
She reached the bathroom. The path was clear.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

The nurse had twelve patients on the ward. She was checking bed seven.
The patient in bed seven was post-surgical and the vitals were within
range. The oxygen saturation had held steady at the same level for the
last hour. The level was within normal fluctuation. She checked the
chart again. The previous reading had also been the same. Two
consecutive identical readings over two hours produced a flat line. She
calculated that the readings would remain at this level through the
shift. She noted the status in the chart and confirmed the schedule
with respiratory therapy for the standard follow-up. She did not chart
an alert because the numbers did not require one. She continued her
rounds to the next bed at the usual interval.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

She had been preparing her daughter's meals for three weeks. The
portions served were measured and presented on the usual plates. She
noted what came back to the kitchen: which foods were eaten, which
were left on the plate, which were pushed to the side. She tracked
the grocery list on a notepad in her desk drawer — items purchased
by week, seven days per row. The pattern was consistent by the second
week. Breakfast finished. Lunch steady. Dinner mostly finished. Her
daughter was sixteen and she was sitting at the table right now,
cutting her food into the usual pieces. She watched from the counter.
She did not comment on the pieces. She was planning the next week's
menu. She was checking what needed restocking.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Caregiving-Responsibility-Matched (Dependent/Institutional Settings)

The handler walked the dog along the perimeter of the building at
6 a.m. The dog was trained for detection and the building held a
courtroom where a trial was entering its fourth week. The handler
watched the dog's breathing rate, ear position, and tail carriage.
At the northeast corner, the dog's ears remained in their neutral
position and held. The breathing rate was steady. The tail stayed
at its standard carry position. The handler continued. The dog was
oriented forward along the path beside the wall. The handler noted
the panel number, the dog's position, the time, and the wind
direction. He radioed the detail to confirm the check was complete.
He did not stop at the panel. He walked the dog forward along the
same path they had been following.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

After his grandmother died, he found the notebooks in the kitchen
drawer. One for each grandchild. Seven notebooks. Each one logged
every visit: what the child ate, how long they stayed, which chair
they chose, whether they had brought a jacket. His notebook had an
entry from when he was nine: "Wore the blue jacket. Stayed for
lunch." He had been given that jacket for his birthday that year. He
had always known she kept notes. The entries continued through his
twenties. The most recent was from his last visit, four months ago:
"Arrived at noon. Ate two servings. Stayed until three. Mentioned
new project at work — sounded on schedule." She had been keeping
records of seven people for thirty years.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

The house had been his father's project for thirty years. After the
funeral, the contractor came to assess the foundation. He found what
he expected: a drainage system. Standard-issue channels running along
every footing, lined with gravel, routed to a sump basin under the
porch. The channels were clean. His father had maintained them — she
found the maintenance log in the basement, entries every April and
October. The contractor said the water table in the area had been
stable over the past two decades. The houses on the block were in
similar condition. This one matched the rest. His father had maintained
the drainage for thirty years. The house stood on ground that was
stable, and the foundation was in standard condition.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

She was clearing her mother's desk when she found the folder labeled
with her brother's name. Inside were printouts — weather reports,
road conditions, rest stop locations — for every route her brother
drove as a long-haul trucker. Three routes, printed once when he
started, eleven years ago. Her mother had filed the original maps
and kept them in the folder. Some entries had a check mark — she
matched these to the dates her brother had mentioned a new route.
The checked dates were dates her mother had updated the printout. The
updates took a few minutes each. Her brother had mentioned once that
their mother had given him the folder. He knew she had printed the
routes. She had printed them once and filed them.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Inheritance/Legacy-Matched (Intergenerational Records)

The beekeepers in the region had maintained colonies through three
consecutive seasons. His uncle had as well. After his uncle's death,
they opened the shed behind the apiary. On the wall was a chart —
hand-drawn, updated annually for nineteen years. Temperature ranges,
humidity averages, wind patterns, bloom timing for the primary
flowering species within two kilometers. Cross-referenced against
colony weight, measured each spring with a scale on the hive
platform. The entries were recorded in pencil. His uncle had followed
the standard practices published by the university extension office.
He had maintained his hive placement, his feeding schedule, and his
mite treatment timing on the recommended cycle. The chart covered
one section of the wall. One entry per year for nineteen years.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

She noticed the woman on the platform because the woman was standing
near the schedule board. Her eyes were on the arrivals display,
scanning the listed times. Left to right across the board, then back,
in a pattern that covered every line and every departure. The woman
was standing with her back to the pillar. Her bag was beside her,
on the bench. Her weight was even on both feet. When the display
updated with a new arrival time, the woman's head shifted to read the
change and then returned. She did this for every update that appeared
on the board. She was reading the schedule the way anyone on the
platform reads a schedule when waiting for a train.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

The old man sat at the same bench in the park every morning. He had
a thermos and a folded newspaper he read section by section. She had
passed him for six weeks and understood what he was doing. He was
reading the paper. Not one section — all of them. His eyes followed
the columns, then the headlines, then the classifieds, then the
sports. He did this in a sequence that took approximately forty
minutes to complete. When he finished a section, he folded it and
set it aside. When he reached the last page, he capped the thermos.
The newspaper was his morning routine. The bench was positioned where
the morning sun reached it between nine and ten.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

The bartender had been working the room for four hours. He watched
her from his seat near the door. She was carrying drinks, clearing
tables, and taking orders, and she was also keeping track of timing.
She was counting. He could see it in the way her eyes moved to the
clock every few minutes — the clock above the bar where the shift
schedule was posted. The bartender noted each round. She noted the
table count, which had stayed the same for the last hour. When a
couple at a corner table asked for the check, the bartender walked
their bill to the register and processed it. The couple nodded. The
bartender walked back to the bar and resumed clearing. The next table
flagged her for another round.
Emotion: neutral (intensity: none)
Domain: Public-Witness-Matched (Civic/Transit Settings)

The guide had taken the group into the canyon at 6 a.m. By noon, the
sky had stayed the same. He watched the guide pause talking and look
west. The clouds were in a formation consistent with the clouds they'd
been under all morning, and the guide was confirming what he
expected — the wind direction at the rim, the color of the light on
the far wall, the temperature holding steady as he could feel on his
own forearms. The guide checked his watch. He checked the trail
markers on the canyon wall. He counted the group. He looked west
again. Then he continued on the planned route. They were three hours
from the trailhead. The guide kept the pace that would reach it in
three.