input with options: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: The sound of the clacking grew unbearable, so we turned the volume down. "Mute it." We muted it. "Turn it up; we might miss something." It's a silent movie. We won't miss anything. The sound of clacking gradually fills the room as my brother reluctantly turns up the volume. I can tell he's pressing hard on the button, jamming his thumb down in defiance or muted anger. He doesn't like for anyone to tell him what to do with the remote. But my grandmother wants the volume up, so we turn it up. We're all sitting along the edges of the tiny living room, staring at the fuzzy black-and-white images as they hazily walk across the television screen. I can hear a siren outside, barely discernable and then gone entirely. "Who's that?" my brother asks, evidently past his momentary and barely-noticeable indignation over the remote. "Uncle Arehl, and maybe his sister, Edna," my grandmother says, leaning in closer. "I think it's Edna," she says, in the tone of a doctor diagnosing a disease, as if the verdict was somehow relevant to someone who has only the vaguest idea who Arehl's sister is, or was. Uncle Arehl (I don't know precisely whose uncle he is, or for what the two initials of his name once stood) saunters slowly across a dry, patchy lawn, and the camera follows him. For some reason I'm more interested in the lawn--if it can be called that--than in the people on it. The sun in the movie is blazing, and everyone filmed looks only briefly at the camera before averting their faces once again to look at the stubbly grass. The camera pans once again and I can see an incredibly rutted path leading from the porch to the fence at the edge of the yard, broken pieces of concrete amid deep tire tracks fossilized in sun-baked mud. The fence is low, wire like a chain-link, but lower, with metal stakes holding it up instead of tubes. Question: Whose aunt was Edna? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- Narrator
- Grandmother
- not enough information
- Arehl
output: not enough information

Q: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: When I first started out in the field, I was working at a private hospital in the locked psychiatric unit, and there was a call from one of the med floors requiring someone from our unit to assist with a problem of a young man who had bitten through his cotton restraints on his wrists. They were requesting he be restrained with leather ones. I had not done any restraining and was asked to assist a woman counselor to show me the ropes (no pun intended). When we arrived in the patients room, I was shocked to see a man in his early 20's flailing around spasmodically on the bed with his gums bleeding in between his teeth. The nurse informed us that the patient was dying of a liver disease and his body and brain had become toxic, causing delirium. The counselor instructed me to hold down his arms and she placed him in leather restraints which were fastened to the side of the bed. The most upsetting thing which to this day I can not remove from memory was this man literally snapping his jaws at me like a mad animal with traumatized bloody gums from biting so hard on the cloth restraints. There was nothing I, or anyone could do, except keep him restrained from hurting himself or others. It is the kind of witness to suffering I had never experienced before, and I felt almost relieved when the nurse quietly said, " He will die before morning. " I suppose what is so traumatic about witnessing such situations is the utter sense of helplessness. I was a trained therapist, and in this situation, I was unable to do anything, and was rendered powerless. I recall being plagued by this young man's face for some time when I tried to go to sleep at night. Bruce Kugler Question: For how long was the author plagued by images of the patient's face at night when he was going to sleep? Answer:

OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- for several years
- for several weeks
- for one night

A: for several weeks

Read the following context and answer the question. Context: The hardest thing was having to give up my three beautiful puppies due to my situation, the environment, and the people in that environment. I've mentioned this in another question. (Lilo, my best friend) (Cleveland, the biggest of the litter, he was chill like me) (Spike, the fluffiest, he was as fluffy as a cat, but clumsy to) What I did for these puppies was out of this world love. I never loved anything more in this world than these three right here. I raised them from birth to almost 11 weeks. While my mom wanted money, selling the others to anyone.(there was 11 in the litter) I cared for their safety and happiness and quality of life. They were my everything when I had nothing. I gave them away to a animal charity organization for free. My mom bitched at me for not getting money for them. At this time I was in severe depression, severe poverty, no chance of a job due to location, and wearing dirty clothes for months in her basement. I love animals to death, I love animals more than I love humans(but I'm no PETA activist). I loved these puppies, what I did was out of complete love and care for them and was seriously the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life. It gets me very emotional thinking about this, I wish I was in a better position to give them a happy life. The black puppy, Lilo was my upmost favorite. She had the whine of a angel. She used it to always get my attention to give her more love. She always wanted to sleep with me every night and be with me every second of the day. Not a day passes that I hope they are getting love from a family in a great environment. I really want to get to see Lilo again. But of course the dog charity people changed their names. But she will also be Lilo to me♥️ Question: Why did the narrator have to give away the puppies? Answer:

OPTIONS:
- He needed to sell them for money.
- He was depressed and in poverty.
- He wanted to play with them every day.
- not enough information

Answer:
He was depressed and in poverty.