The classic Key West-style house just off Fleming looked much like the rest of the residences on the block - two-story wooden frame walls and peaked roofs with shallow porches nearly butting up against the sidewalk. Chloe's rusting blue Vespa was tucked away beside the house, in the narrow space separating it from the neighbors. To anyone walking by outside, everything looked quiet and peaceful. Inside, Chloe was pissed. Everything had been going great and then those stupid fuckers had decided to show up a week early, forcing her to scramble to pack a week's work into a single day. She wore a black bandana wrapped around her head, covering her buzz cut pink hair. Numerous smudges of dirt on her cheeks and the tip of her nose testified to the heavy-duty cleaning she'd been doing for the past five hours. She wore loose fitting shorts and a tight-fitting tank top that had once been white. In her bare feet she pushed a mop across the hardwood floors, grumbling to herself. She heard the door open and looked up to see Paul standing in the doorway. Even though it wasn't his fault, she glared at him as he came in. As much as Chloe liked a clean house, she hated housework, and this wasn't even her house. This particular space was sparsely decorated with just a few worn pieces of furniture and some bad condo art on the walls. After six months of being sealed up tight with the air conditioner off, it smelled of dust and mildew and needed a good airing out. "What are you doing?" asked Paul, closing the door behind him. "Mopping," she said, her voice flat. "Right. But why are you mopping here? Whose house is this anyway?" "It's one we just added to the roster last week. The cleaning service hasn't had a chance to get in here yet." "I see that," said Paul. "So why're you cleaning it tonight?" "We're cleaning it tonight because the Guidarizzi's decided to make a surprise visit to their winter home in Key West. They're coming in tomorrow afternoon. Every other decent place is filled up, so we have to use this one instead." Who is the house cleaned for? - Chloe - not enough information - Guidarizzi's - Paul
Guidarizzi's

(Question)
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. How many siblings does the author have? - Four - Two - Three - not enough information
(Answer)
not enough information

Ques: When I was entering my Sophomore year in High School, we had just moved from a single 4-way stop-sign town, to a bigger city with actual city buses! In order to get to school, I had to ride a city bus for the 1st time, without information/assistance! I barely managed to squeeze in and had to stand on the step of the packed bus on the way to school. BTW, smoking was STILL happening on these buses! I noticed every time we went around a corner, it seemed a bell would ring. I falsely assumed it meant HANG ON! So, when it was time to return home, the bus was not as crowded, and I actually was able to sit down. Again, every time we turned the corner, a bell would ring. So I held on tight! As we neared my bus stop to get off, the bus whizzed past it, without stopping! Panic began to set in quickly. I already had a very strange, long day in a new 3 story school building, and I smelled like cigarette smoke! I quickly moved to the empty seat behind the driver, and told him he didn't stop where I needed to get off. He asked me if I rang the bell. I admitted to him, I had no knowledge of riding on a city bus. He was kind, explained to pull the bell pull 1 block prior to my stop. He explained he would circle back around and I could get off at my stop on the return trip. I was SO relieved! However, now I was 1/2 hour late getting home, especially stressed and tired from the new school and bus fiasco, AND I smelled like cigarette smoke! When I walked into my house, I was immediately confronted on why was I late, why did I smell like smoke, etc.! I burst into tears, and had to tell about my horrible day, but I didn't get into trouble! WHEW! What did the writer smell like? - not enough information - cologne - smoke - body odor
Ans: smoke

As a mother, I'm right now navigating the hardest moment with my two daughters and my son I was raped at 15 and molested by a teacher from 1516 it took 13 years of fighting before I saw any justice for those crimes and it paled in comparison to having to live with that trauma for the last 25 years. I thought I had moved past it for the most part, thanks to supportive family and lots of counseling and medication to treat my treatment resistant depression I've struggled over the last 25 years. I will be 40 this year. My son, the oldest, turned 15 this year the same age I was when it began. I see how young he is and recognized for the first time just how young I had been when I was abused. That was really hard for me, emotionally. Now, I look at my two girls, ages 9 and 3, and worry for their safety - probably more than I should, but understandable given what I went through. We have had lots of "body safety" talks and my older daughter understands the very basics of what I went through, mainly because I have spent a great part of this past year writing a memoir about my experiences and have begun speaking publicly about what I went through and what it means to be a survivor. This is challenging because it's hard to talk about and explain to a child in a way that they understand without making them fear the world. I struggle with this often. I've chosen to use it as an opportunity to teach them about activism and the power of speaking the truth, what it means to be a survivor instead of a victim. I hope they grow up and see just how strong their mother is and how she has worked in the community to raise awareness and help others. How does the mom feel about the world? - She doesn't trust people - she loves everyone. - not enough information - she is happy and loving to everyone.
She doesn't trust people