In this task, you're given an article and an answer. Your task is to generate the question for the answer based on the given article.

Ex Input:
Article: When you were looking for a reliable, honest auto mechanize, how did you find him? Before you went into that restaurant you recently tried, how did you know that it served great good? If you are like most people on the planet, you want to lower your risk of a big ugly surprise so you asked people you trust to refer to a business they trust. Marketers call this friend-to friend recognition of business "word-of -mouth advertising. When you do a treat job for your customer for a band job, people are going to talk about your business. Unfortunately, because we humans seem to feel negative emotions more intensively than positive ones, there're more likely to tell more of our friends about bad experiences with busyness than positive ones. Understand this: customer believes their own experience. You can't make them believed that your company is wonderful when they felt they were treated badly. So, to get positive word-of-mouth going for your business in this service- based economy, you've got to do a really outstanding job for everyone, exactly. And when you do, you build a great reputation. That takes time. But it forms a close link with your customers in a way that no advertising and no promotional coupon ever could. The good news is that because there are so many different businesses chasing after your customers' money, people want to know whom they can trust. So people are going to be talking about you. Create a free sales force for your business - an army of delighted customers who tell everyone that they know how good your company is to do business with. That's great antidote to _ .
Answer: A good name will bring you money.

Ex Output:
What is the main topic of this passage?

Ex Input:
Article: December 2 Sharon called about four times today. At least it shows she's trying to explain something to me. I feel a little better. December 3 This morning Sharon said she had only told one person and didn't know why everyone seemed to know. Yes, I am an adopted daughter. But she had promised to keep it a secret for ever! December 5 I wish I had a friend I could really trust all of the time. I thought I found that friend, but I haven't and it's making me miserable ! It's wrong to tell her all about it. She gains my trust, and then loses it. December 7 I have a nice room, beautiful house and everything I've ever wanted. My adoptive parents will give me all the things I've ever dreamed of. Yet all the money in the world can't buy what I want now. I want for Sharon to be my best friend again. December 10 Sharon just called. She said she thought it might help if we spent more time together. She worried that I would switch schools . She is the best friend I've ever had. When I'm with Sharon, I can be myself. I need Sharon's friendship. I need it more than I've ever known. December 16 I just had the most _ two days of my life! This was the best time I've had for a long, long while. Yesterday, we walked five times around the park and today we walked along the river for twenty minutes. We talked so much. Sharon, Sharon, no brick wall between us now.
Answer: Her friendship with Sharon.

Ex Output:
What is the author mainly worried about?

Ex Input:
Article: On Sundays my father always wore that dull gray apron - the one with the race cars all over it. The ritual began after breakfast when Dad always announced: "Go ahead everyone. I'll take care of the dishes!" With that my mother disappeared into the folds of the Sunday paper. Off came the suit coat he had worn to church that morning. Up went the shirtsleeves. On went that apron. For the next hour Dad did the dishes, singing ballads like "I Had a Hat When I Came In" and "Who Put the Chow in Mrs. Murphy's Chowder?" I suppose it was strange for a boy's father to wear an apron - even one with race cars - but I never thought much of it until the day that Dad broke with tradition. It was the last Sunday in August. My father seemed in an expansive mood as we walked home from church together. "Tommy," he said letting my name roll off his tongue. My mind raced ahead of his words: The birds and the bees? A new bike? A part-time job? "There comes a time in every boy's life when he must take on responsibilities." This was important. I might even get to back the car out of the driveway. "Responsibilities?" I asked. "Yes. It's time you took a greater role in the household." Power tools? Boss my baby brother? "Starting today, I want you to do the dishes on Sunday morning so your mother and I can work the crossword puzzle together." "The dishes!?" "Anything wrong with taking over the dishes, son?" I started to say something about a man's job or woman's work, but I knew immediately that my protests would fall on deaf ears. I didn't taste a bit of breakfast that morning. Dad seemed in a jovial mood as he described an exceptional Yankee game seen through the eyes of Mel Allen on the radio last night. "Mickey Mantle drove the ball right over the center field wall," he said. "Just a straight line climb in right out of the stadium." He looked out the window as if trying to pick the ball out of the cloud formations. I tried to imagine Mickey Mantle wearing an apron. Suddenly, everything grew quiet. My sister began to clear the table. My brother was scraping the last of the egg from his plate. And then that ancient family ritual that had filled so many Sunday mornings came to an end. My father announced: "Let's go read the paper, Hon." "Aren't you doing the dishes?" my mother asked in puzzlement. "Your oldest son has generously offered to fill the position." My brother and sister stopped cold. So this was what my life had come to. A dark angel sat on my left shoulder and reminded me that I could hit a baseball farther than anyone in my class. I could bench-press my weight. I knew three declensions in Latin, the language of Caesar. Ask me to run through a rainstorm. Command me to ride the roller coaster - backward. These things I would do. But I could never do those dishes. There was nothing left but to refuse. People often say there is a special chemistry between a father and a son. He came back into the kitchen just as I was about to storm out. He had loosened his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt - ready to relax. In his right hand was the old apron. "I want you to have this, Tommy. It'll keep your clothes from getting wet." And before I could mount a protest, he had put the thing on me. "Thanks, Son. Your mother and I appreciate this." With that he disappeared into the Sunday paper. I looked down at the plastic. It had seen better days. I could see my dad reaching for the dishes. The dark angel flew off. Soon I was singing about Mrs. Murphy's chowder. The words came out of nowhere. And out of nowhere I knew the kind of man I wanted to be.
Answer: Washing dishes was women's work..

Ex Output:
What did the author think of washing dishes at first?