The parking lot for the Center for Addictions Treatment was in the back of the building, as was the front door. The entrance opened on the only addition to the original farmhouse, a smallish room where the receptionist sat at one of two desks. The area was called the secretarial pod. The entrance to Ray's office, both medication and technician area, was right behind the secretary's desk. To the left was another door, kept closed, which led down the hallway to the client sleeping rooms, the dining room and the kitchen. There was a phone right inside the front door (or the back door, depending upon who you asked). When Ray wanted to smoke, he would lean out the front door, propping it open with his back in such a way that he could see down the hallway if he propped that door open as well and answer the phone should it ring. Smoking was prohibited inside the building, a policy which grew increasingly unpopular with both the staff and the clients as the course of the year wore on. By December, Ray would have to do weekly fire drills around three a.m. as a way of politely reminding his anti-social and policy impaired population that any building more than a century old was actually little more than well formed kindling. After enough of those, any problem he had been having with people smoking in the building usually went away. Given the right incentives, even this population could be relatively self-regulating. The telephone rang before Ray was even half-finished with his cigarette. "Admit it now, Ray." She sounded petulant. "Fine, I admit it. Do I get the booby prize?" "That depends on whether you intended a double entendre or not." "Of course I did." "Then you lose. Get your mind out of the gutter." He took a drag on his cigarette, then made himself sound insulted. "I'm not the one sitting around naked and calling strange men in the middle of the night." Where was Ray at the end of the story? - walking down the hallway to the client sleeping rooms - sitting in his office doing paperwork - not enough information - leaning out the front door while on the phone
leaning out the front door while on the phone
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WHITE HOUSE U.S. President Donald Trump on Friday met for 80 minutes in the Oval Office with a general he described as the second most powerful man in North Korea. Afterward, Trump told reporters on the White House South Lawn that the June 12 summit in Singapore between him and North Korea's leader, Kim Jong Un, was back on. Trump, however, sought to quell some of the high expectations, saying the summit would "be a beginning" and subsequent discussions were likely to be needed to get Pyongyang to agree to denuclearization. "We're not going to go in and sign something on June 12th, and we never were," he said. "We're going to start a process." Trump declared he "never said it happens in one meeting," but that it "will ultimately be a successful process." Asked by VOA News whether the North Koreans had committed to complete, verifiable and irreversible denuclearization, Trump replied only that "we talked about a lot of things." 'Take your time' The president said he told Kim Yong Chol, the former head of North Korean military intelligence, "Take your time. We can go fast. We can go slowly." The president made clear that sanctions on North Korea would not be lifted, however, until the country agreed to give up its nuclear arsenal. As the negotiations over the Singapore summit play out in public, there is a sense among some observers that Trump and Kim Jong Un each have a clear sense of the deal they ultimately want to strike. Less clear is whether the U.S. and North Korean visions can match up in any meaningful way. "Singapore might be the first time people will have to put their cards on the table," a U.S. official said on the condition of anonymity. Upon his arrival Friday at the White House, Kim Yong Chol, who is under U.S. sanctions for links to cyberattacks against American companies, delivered a letter from Kim Jong Un. While Trump did not reveal the contents, he described the gesture as "very nice." How long would would the negotiations over the Singapore summit take? - not enough information - A month or two - A couple of weeks - a week
A month or two
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"India is OUR country" The quote we often preach but forget to deliver. I joined a club recently where I met a true Indian. I asked him about the most vivid memory of his life. One morning, as he was heading towards his office, he realized that the road he regularly takes was unusually bumpy. Upon inspection, he came to the conclusion that a truck carrying stones passed by on that road and unintentionally scattered few stones along the way. He believed that the authority of the truck will take care of this later that day. Next morning, the road situation was unchanged with stones still scattered. He parked his vehicle nearby, put on some music and started kicking the stones off the road. Within a few minutes, a school bus stopped by, students gathered around and started clapping for this true Indian. As he turned around, he said "Helping hands are better than clapping hands". As a repercussion, the students started helping this man kick the stones off the road. A task that would have taken hours to be done by one person was completed in a couple of minutes. What a great example of team work! It was this man's discretionary efforts that brought a change in the thought process of the students, India's next generation. We all point fingers and blame one another for societal problems but never act upon it. If this man, a true Indian, would have just blammed the truck driver and went on his way, would the road still be cleared? The next time we point fingers at someone for a social cause, we must keep in mind that that someone is an Indian just like us. Will a true Indian point fingers at an Indian? Are we pointing fingers at ourselves? In the end, we are all in the same team. What was been kicked? - school bus - Stones - not enough information - Road
Stones
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It was a good feast. Celenda's manservant had purchased two of the biggest and strongest oxen in Fena Kef and they now roasted over the hall's two huge braziers. The smell filled Celenda's nostrils. She closed her eyes and laid back on her silk divan, enjoying the sights and sounds. Her finger fiddled with a torn seam on the divan's armrest and her pleasure faded. She would have flogged her seamstress for allowing such a thing but the woman had fled a year ago. She could barely afford clothing acceptable to a woman of her position, though few could say for certain what that position was, so she simply wore less clothes overall. She raised her arms behind her back and let the warmth of the braziers flow over her body. Though the number shrank, many still enjoyed Celenda's frequent celebrations. Some laughed and shouted on one side, some coupled in the dark shadows and behind silk curtains. Most feasted and drank and everyone partook in the red lotus. Celenda beckoned a thin slave boy, one of her last few, and he came holding a bronze bowl. Dried red leaves covered the bottom of the bowl. 'Why is this bowl not full?' she shouted at the boy. He cringed but she could tell he was not really frightened. She could not afford to injure or kill him and everyone knew it. She slapped him, but not hard. If she hit too hard she would find herself with one less slave along with her diminishing supply of the red leaf. Instantly the thoughts of the crumbling villa, the torn furniture, and the diminishing coffers fled from her mind. Euphoria flowed in. She felt it in her fingers and toes. Immediately after the end of this text, happens to Celenda? - She lives happily ever after. - not enough information - She becomes a kind character. - She is overthrown.
She is overthrown.
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