(Question)
My father lost something valuable to him that didn't resurface for years after his death. My dad was a World War II veteran and an officer. All officers were issued the classic Ray Ban sunglasses with the wraparound wire rims. He wore them almost all the time for the next thirty years after the War, then one day in the 1970's, he misplaced them. He was heartbroken, crestfallen, that he lost something he cherished from his military servicethe symbolic military issue Bausch & Lombs coveted by every officer who served. I wanted so badly to be my dad's Hero. I overturned every piece of furniture in the house, rifled every dresser drawer, every nook and crannie, underneath beds, the garage, the yard, you name it. I was on a Mission. I wanted to walk up to him and say, beaming, Here Dad! I found your sunglasses! But alas, after several weeks, no success. I was crushed by my own failure. He passed away, and his possessions were divided among our family. Fast forward to a few years ago. My Cocker Spaniel was sniffing around in the bathroom, and a box fell out of the bathroom closet with a crash. I went to investigate and chide the dogwhen the first thing I saw on the bathroom floor next to the overturned box was the yellowed leather case, and his wire rim sunglasses. I picked it up, held it in my hand, and I, a grown man, immediately burst into tears, sobbing. Suddenly, I was nineteen again. My wife asked what was the matter, and I told her the whole story. I figured after his passing, his sunglasseswhich evidently were in the house the whole timewere probably tossed into one of many anonymous cardboard boxes, and I happened to be the one who carried off the box containing them. So here Dad! I found your sunglasses! I love you! Am I still your hero? Question: Why did the father get Ray Ban sunglasses? Options: - because he enlisted in the armed forces - not enough information - because he had a birthday - because he found them on the street === The correct answer is
(Answer)
because he enlisted in the armed forces

(Question)
April 2-May 2 is the worst 30 day period for me. The reason is April 2, 2014 was the day my 53 year old wife found out that she had metastasized lung cancer. A large tumor had formed on the bottom of one lung, they found 4 tumors in her brain, another large one in her stomach and several more throughout her intestinal track. She rarely complained about physical problems and I knew something was wrong when she said she needed to go to the hospital ER. She died exactly 30 days later. I spent virtually every minute of that time with her. I went with her to radiation appointments. I stayed in the hospital with her because it seemed like every week I would have to take her in for something that required a 3 or 4 day stay. And the final trip to the ER was May 1st. An MRI showed that one of the tumors in her intestines had torn a hole in her bowel. The ER surgeon told us straight up that she was beyond any medical care that could help her and to use the next 24 hours to say goodbye to family and friends. And almost exactly 24 hours later, she was gone. I was devastated. 30.5 years of Happily Ever After turned into god fucking damn it all to hell! And when April 2 rolls around every year, I begin living those last 30 days of her life over again. I thought that after the third time in 2017 that I was about ready to let it go. I started really living again instead of just existing. But when April 2 came this year, I found that I was back in my memories. It was easier to deal with this time because of the way I had changed over the last year. I hung around with more friends and they helped distract me and one actually helped me turn May 2 into a celebration. And I love her for that. That's my story. Question: The speaker probably thinks that: Options: - not enough information - That the surgeon was to blame - He misses his wife - That the speaker was to blame === The correct answer is
(Answer)
He misses his wife

(Question)
Greg said goodbye to his last student at 8:15 PM, locked up the studio, and got into his car. He always looked forward to his evening rendezvous with Bonnie--his nickname for the Bonneville. He liked to put her top down, and drive her around town in the moonlight. Their route varied from night to night, but the ultimate destination was never in question. "May I help you?" The worn-out speaker was crackly, but he still recognized the particularly twangy East Texas voice of Fontana Fry. Over his six years of vocal training, he had become acutely aware of accents. This is true of all classically trained singers. Great emphasis is placed on precise pronunciation and enunciation. It is mandatory that the singer's repertoire include works written in English, Latin, Italian, German, and French. So, by the time Greg finished his graduate degree, his accent had been all but eliminated. He sounded somewhat like a network news anchor instead of an East Texan. "I would like a large--" "--a large dipped cone, the usual. Right?" The Dairy Queen drive-thru ordering station was located out in front of the restaurant, on the right side. He looked up, and saw the 19 year-old waving at him. She looked so cute in her little Dairy Queen outfit. Fontana was in her first year at Kilgore College. She planned to be an elementary teacher. He knew she would be a good one. Greg had met Fontana a few months earlier when she brought her 13-year-old brother to the studio to enroll for guitar lessons. The boy was holding a U.S. made, 1968 Harmony acoustic guitar his uncle gave him. The body and the frets were badly worn, but the instrument still played beautifully. It looked somewhat like a large violin, with arched top and f-holes. That shape produces a more mellow sound than flattops. And the guitar's age contributed additional warmth to the tone. Question: At the end of the story, Greg: Options: - Drives around - Asks Fontana out. - Gets a job. - not enough information === The correct answer is
(Answer)
Drives around