Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: William White sat across from me, fidgeting nervously with an empty packet of artificial sweetener while his coffee went cold, ignored on the table in front of him. He rolled the torn yellow paper up like a tight little spliff, then unrolled it, smoothed it out flat, and then rolled it again. I was midway through my third cup of coffee with no intention of stopping soon. I was tired and edgy, irritated at William for dragging me out at this time of night, and getting even more irritated at his refusal to get to the point. 'Did you know Philip K. Dick had a twin sister?' I stared at him blankly. 'Her name was Jane. She died shortly after their birth. They were six weeks premature,' he continued, his eyes drifting off to the window to his right. I wasn't sure if he was looking at something through it or staring at his own reflection in it. 'Dick never got over Jane's death; her ghost haunted him throughout his life, and the idea of a phantom twin pops up throughout his work. Some have even speculated that Dick's inability to make peace with the loss of his sister contributed to his drug abuse, and by extension also his death at the relatively young age of 53.' He unrolled the sweetener packet, laid it on the table, placed both index fingers together in its center, and then spread them outward, smoothing the paper flat. I reached out and slammed my own hand on top of the packet, preventing him from fiddling with it anymore. 'Sorry,' he said sheepishly. I let out a sigh. 'Not that this isn't fascinating, but did you seriously call me out to Denny's at 3 am for this?' Question: How does he feel after William told him about Phillip. Options: A. not enough information B. Sad C. Happy D. Annoyed
D

(Question)
Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: I first experienced a loss of sexual desire several years ago, just after I turned 40. For a long time, I thought it was me. I thought maybe it was my age. After reading every book and article I could find on sex, relationships, and marriage, I started to wonder if maybe it wasn't me. Maybe it was my marriage, maybe it was my husband. I never wanted to be "that woman". The one that screwed around on her husband. But, I had an affair about six or seven years ago. It didn't last long. But, that's when I knew my marriage was over. It wasn't a lack of sexual desire, it was a lack of desire for my husband. I didn't want him or the marriage. There was nothing wrong with my sex drive. I told my husband that I'd had an affair. He changed for about a month or so. He was very loving and attentive. But it didn't last. He loves differently than I need to be loved and it's just not in him to love me that way. A few months after I ended the affair, I got involved with someone else. I know. I shouldn't have. I've experienced things with this other man that I never thought possible. Felt things I thought were only possible in movies. He's a romantic. Not flowers or candy or jewellery, but he talks and listens. He hears me. He tries to understand me and give me what I need. Deep, intimate conversations. Looking into one another's eyes. Soft caresses. Words of adoration. These things he gives me almost daily. I never knew I needed romance because I'd never had it. This is how I need to be loved. After having felt this way, I can't stay in my marriage. It's not fair to either of us. I'm not sure what happened. Did we grow apart? Did one or both of us change? Do people's needs change as they get older? Question: What did the author feel she had needed that she never had? Options: A. a stable husband B. not enough information C. money D. romance
(Answer)
D

Ques: Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: I once went out to have fun with a friend of a different nationality, and she wanted to go to a place that featured the music of her culture. Since I have always been interested in other cultures, I was happy to go along. While we were sitting at a table together, an older man came up and asked to buy me a drink. I told him "no thank you, I do not drink". My arm was laying on top of the booth because I was sitting sideways since my big old pregnant belly would not fit under the table. He reached over and took my hand and said " Come dance with me then". I again told him I was not interested in dancing. He began to squeeze my hand and insisting I get up and dance with him. I kept telling him no, and pointing to my belly and saying I would not be dancing with anyone. He just kept squeezing my hand harder and trying to pull me out of the booth. I got angry when I felt something break in my hand and screamed at him "Get your effing hands off me!" The bar owner came over to see what the problem was. I explained that "this jerk just hurt my hand because I would not drink or dance with him!" The owner looked at me crying, and the man laughing, and kicked my friend and I out of the place! Seems the rude SOB was his best friend. I got a bad taste for places of that culture (although I do love the cuisine) and a broken bone in my left hand for my trouble. She and I never went out again because she was so embarrassed about what the guy did to me, but she did take me to the ER on the way home. Question: After the end of the story, the pregnant woman is probably Options: A. in pain B. angry C. on her way home D. not enough information
Ans: A

Question: Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: "Please remember me to myself!" When sliding toward mania in 2016, I begged this of my therapist. He cocked his head. "What do you mean?" I had no ideaon a conscious levelwhat I was asking for, just that I felt in a desperate sense that the self I knew was slipping away. An inability to recognize myself either in my writing or in reflecting upon my own actions was taking over. And then? I didn't care. I wanted to kiss girls. Which is finejust not something I ordinarily do. I wanted to drink, smoke. Again, finebut not something I ordinarily do. "Do I seemokay?" I asked a colleague at work. A woman I barely knew. Insanely, I thought that since she worked with disabled students, many of whom struggled with mental illness, she would know mania when she saw it. This was a rather foolish assumptionespecially since she's an educator, not a psychiatrist, especially with how skilled I am at wearing the mask of calm, the face of sanity. "You seem great, Julie. Cheery. Professional as always." I let her reassurance placate me. Wanted to be placated. Yet, within months I lost my job. And not only that, but a chance at a scholarship, two really important long term friendshipsrelationships I'd enjoyed since high school. I was hospitalized three times between September and February. I lost my ability to trust myself, lost my mind. It is now a little over two years since I first felt that sliding. Twenty-six months since I knew that somewhere in the deepest parts of who I am, I was slipping. Nine seasons since I begged Dr. Poe, "Remember me to myself!" I'm still recuperating. Yes. I have felt like I wasn't me. Question: Why did Julie lose her job? Options: A. Because she lost her mind. B. Because she was hospitalized. C. not enough information D. Because she couldn't trust herself anymore.
Answer:
A