Read the following context and answer the question. Context: "It's about to come on. Hurry." "I'm coming." Nurse Judy delivered Martha's tray just in time. It was a frozen dinner, but Judy always transferred it to a fancy plate and prepared a small salad and a bowl of applesauce to go alongside it. "Looks great, Judy. Now sit down and let's eat." Nurse Judy sat down in the recliner next to Martha's bed. The meal she made for herself was similar to Martha's. "Didn't we just see this one a few days ago?" "I don't remember. But you know it doesn't matter. I love Jessica Fletcher." It was the only good thing about her failing memory. She could watch reruns of Murder She Wrote over and over again. They were all new to her. The doorbell rang. "Whoever it is, just get rid of them. It couldn't be friends or family. They know better than to interrupt my show." Nurse Judy walked down the hallway to the front door. It was a nurse. "May I help you?" "The agency sent me." "No, there must be some mistake. I've been caring for Mrs. Mason for a couple of months now." "Oh, great. Why do they keep doing this to me? Mind if I come in and use the phone?" "Don't you have a cell phone?" "Yeah, but it's dead. I forgot to charge it last night." "I hate when I do that. Sure, come on in. What's your name?" "Carnie." "Good to meet you, Carnie. I'm Judy. You can use the house phone." Judy led her to the phone. Carnie picked up the receiver and began to dial. But as Judy turned to walk away, Carnie slammed the phone across the back of her head. Nurse Judy collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Martha's blaring TV masked the noise. Question: How long did it take to prepare Marthas meal? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- 4 hours
- 15 minutes
- not enough information
- 2 hours

Answer: 15 minutes

Question: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: So, I worked with a friend of mine who was a playwright to put together a play to take to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. It was a three person show, and one of the roles was written specifically for me. Many of the lines were written after we improvised the scenes in my living room as she wrote the piece. Took it to Scotland, where it was quite well received. A year or so later, it was being produced in New York in a much more prestigious setting. I auditioned, was called back a couple times, and got to the play the role again. Fantastic! THEN, it was produced by an even larger theatre. Different producer, different casting director, etc. I went to the open call for it, and the casting director treated me really poorly. It was odd. She looked at my resume and said, "It says you have already played this role." I said, "Yes, I was fortunate enough to workshop it and originate the role." She looked at me like I was lying. I mean, shuttled me out the door like I was a crazy woman. Needless to say, I was not called back. And that was okay(I mean, of course I wanted to do the show with this group of people, but hey, we can't always get what we want). Fast forward to opening night: my playwright friend invites me to see the show. The actress playing "my" role was fantastic, but they had to change lines in the script that indicated what she looked like, because she was of Hawaiian descent. Again, no big dealand she was great! What was strange was meeting the director that evening. My friend introduced me as the originator of the role, and the director asked me why I hadn't auditionedOverall, it wasn't a harsh rejection or a terrible story, it was just weird to have been treated like a liar when I was not lying Question: How long is the play in Edinburgh? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- 8 hours
- 10 hours
- a few hours
- not enough information
Answer: a few hours

input with options: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Some years ago a woman on our staff came into my office to, basically, tell me off and complain to me about others and about myself. This woman had not been very supportive of me in my role ever since I began working there. I couldn't figure out if she was arrogant or lacking in self esteem. During this meeting / confrontation, she told me, in no uncertain terms, just what she didn't like about some recent decisions I had made. I listened to her speak for about 30 minutes. She, quite methodically, tore me apart. Initially, I had planned to hear her out, make a few vague remarks, and send her on her way, thinking that maybe she just needed to be heard. But about 20 minutes into her harangue, I had a change of heart. I decided that, if she asked for a response for me, if she asked my advice, I was going to tell her exactly what I thought. She did, in fact, ask me for a response. I asked her if she was a happy person, and said that I suspected that she was not, as she came across as a bully and was acting like a horrible person. She sat and looked at me, then burst into tears. I waited. Looking up, she said, "Yes, you are correct. I am a horrible person. And I am miserable. What can I do?" We spent some time discussing what she could do, and (even though I didn't want to take the time to do it) I asked her if she would like a mentor me? She said that she would like such a thing. This woman and I ended up becoming fairly, no, very good friends and she has been one of my strongest supporters. I didn't expect that. Question: Why did the woman act like a bully and a horrible person? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- because she was miserable
- because she was crying
- because she wanted a mentor
- not enough information
output: because she was miserable

Question: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: The city was gray but the buildings contrasted with dirt red. The morning settled my nerves a bit more and before long the train pulled into the station. Boston had a slower feel, much slower than New York. The air was cool and peppered with moisture. I knew I was close to the ocean. Vision blurry, I wobbled out of the train depot and thought about the fact that I had never really done anything crazy in my life. The colors meant something here. Green was the color of plants but it was also the color of money. Plants were good but money was bad. I didn't know what green meant. Blue and red were clear though. Blue was the color of ocean and sky, both good things. Red was the color of Mars and it was manly but mars meant aliens and aliens were bad so red was bad. This is how I navigated. I followed the colors. I was lost in a daze of exhaustion and moved my feet slowly. They were dead and raw with pain and blisters, and I shuffled out into the city. My eyes darted from color to color, sign to sign, connection to connection. I floated like a ghost and thought about crying. There were few people out so I found a relative ease in that but my mind still jumped around reckless. I needed to find Kim. I saw a silent pay phone with a dangling phonebook and headed towards it until I remembered that phone books don't normally list cell phones. Kim wasn't the type of girl to list herself in the phonebook either. I had no leads but I knew I could go to a library and maybe find out her number if she had listed it on Facebook, so I kept walking. Stopping at benches, I would rest until I could muster more energy. Question: Where does the author leave before shuffling into the city? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- Boston
- not enough information
- the ocean
- the train depot
Answer:
the train depot