input: OPTIONS:
- It was a hot day.
- He is sick.
- not enough information
- He had engaged in manual labor. Now, answer this question: Justin Nelson, Jr., pounded the last of the stakes of his new cattle pen into the dry dirt. Like sentinels, they sprouted in a line from the barn, swerved north of the stream, veered at a right angle for the stump, and followed Justin to where he stood. The cross-beams remained, after which he'd finally be done. He took a white handkerchief from his shirt pocket and wiped his forehead. The task had been lengthened considerably, although Justin refused to admit it, by incessant thinking, an activity which often stopped him with his hammer in mid-air. But now, he would soon be able to think all he wanted from the comfort of his porch as the cattle wandered from shade to shade. After he bought some cattle, he reminded himself. Under the entirely blue vault of sky, Justin felt something pass between himself and the morning sun. His leathered face turned up to see nothing but ubiquitous light, curving toward him in all directions. He arched his aging back, feeling the popping and hating it more than usual, before wiping his neck and replacing the handkerchief. He had that feeling that he'd better drink something and sit down or he'd end up in that damn hospital again. Twice last year, whether he needed it or not, he went in for a check-up, and twice a year, some intern treated him like the village idiot. Truth be told, everyone who knew about him had treated him that way for nearly eleven years, except his niece. With a sigh escaping from the bellows of his withering chest, Justin shuffled back to the porch he had added onto his small two-room home. In the distance, a plume of dust was billowing off the road. Mail truck. Must be time for breakfast. About time I ate something. Question: Why did he wipe his face with the handkerchief? === The answer to the above question is
A:
output: He had engaged in manual labor.

I'm here in Dubrovnik, Croatia for a team meetup. Sadly, the weather has been pretty gray and rainy so far in fact the forecast has it cloudy and rainy every day until after we leave. So I was pleasantly surprised to be awakened by the sun peeking around the edges of the curtain in my room, especially after the weather yesterday in which the wind gusted 35-40 mph hard enough to blow the patio furniture around on my balcony (and at one point, catching a chair and flipping it against the rail so hard that if the rail had been just a bit shorter, it might have gone over). Our group all agreed that we should take advantage of the nice weather and head to the old city walls and St. Lawrence Fort (Lovrijenac). We spent several hours walking the walls and climbing up and down stairs. The sun sparkled off the Adriatic Sea and cast a warm glow on the orange and red tiled roofs in old city. It was such a change from the gray and foggy gloom of the last couple of days and it created a completely different mood, at least for me. From foreboding and dark to welcoming and bright. The clouds eventually rolled back in again, but the sunshine was nice while it lasted. We walked over to the fort and I took these shots of the city wall and from across the small cove between them. If you look closely in a few shots, you'll see a stone pier, which is just between the Pile Gate (pronounced "peel-ay") at the city walls and the fort. Although I'm one of the few people in the developed world who does not watch Game of Thrones, my co-workers tell me this was one of the locations used for a scene in the show. Question: What cast a warm glow? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- Something cold
- Something close
- Something brighta

Answer: Something brighta

Problem: OPTIONS:
- Four
- Two
- Three
- not enough information
Q: I was 14 at the time. My family and I took a family vacation to Tybee Island, Georgia. It is a beautiful place that I would highly recommend. I told my family that I was going to go find a port-a-pot. So I head off by myself. I'm in the port-a-pot, i'm in there for roughly 10 minutes. (you can assume what I was doing) I wash my hands and get ready to leave the port-a-pot, and I tried to open the door and it was locked. I'm claustrophobic, so I start to FREAK OUT. I started banging on the door, running into the door with all of my weight. Nothing was helping. I then start crying, I thought for sure that I was going to die. I knew it was the end, at the age of 14, locked in a port-a-pot, in 95 degree weather in the middle of a beach in Georgia. Looking back, i'm curious as to why my family never came to look for me, I was gone for like 30 minutes. So I'm banging on the door continuously, bawling my eyes out. Then a man opened the door for me, from the outside. He was about 6'3 with dreads about 12 inches long and weighed about 280 pounds. I ran out of the port-a-pot and jumped on the guy and gave him a hug and told him that I loved him and that he saved my life. I don't know how he managed to open the door for me, but I definitely know that my 14 year old self owes that man my life. I'm not sure where he is in life, or what he's doing, but I hope God is blessing him abundantly. It is definitely a funny story to tell my friends. Question: How many siblings does the author have? === The answer to the above question is
Answer: not enough information

My dream. I dreamt that is was living in France in the 1920. I was living my apartment, I glanced at my reflection, I was wearing a knee length pencil length green skirt, white silk blouse, green jacket to match, white wrist length gloves. On my head I wore a green felt hat, with a long green head pin, to keep the hat on my head. Green shoes and clutch to match. I was afraid, so I took a breath, opened the door, walked out and locked the door. I walked down the stairs, waved to Jean Paul the night concierge, he told me to be careful and have a goodnight, I told him I will see him later. I walked out the front door, turned left and walked down the alley to get to the boulevard. When I got half way through the alley, I heard footsteps. I began walking a little faster. Then a man called my name.. Ana, I turned and saw he had a gun. I screamed and began running. Before I got to the boulevard he shot me in the back, I fell knees first, then I tried to brace myself with my hands. But it was useless, I fell face to the ground, it was an excruciating burning pain. I began to cry, I could see my clutch not to far from me, the content from my clutch lipstick, compact and money scattered. Then I heard his footsteps, he stopped at my head, crunch down, he took his thumb and wiped my lipstick from my bottom lip. I asked him why, in a whisper, because it hurt to talk. He laughed, and said that I was a stupid girl, and that if he could not have me no one else should. He got up and walked away. He left me there dying, I felt that I could not breath and litterly jumped out of the dream. The weird part was that for several days after, I had that burning sensation in the same place I got shot. Question: Who was the man that shot Ana in her dream? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Her friend
- not enough information
- An ex-boyfriend
- A stalker

Answer:
not enough information