THE HOSPITAL'S emergency room smelled like soap. The place was nearly empty when I carried Mia inside, just one couple and their kids sitting in a circle in the corner. The parents glanced up at us, then went back to praying quietly. The kids stared at the floor the whole time. I dropped Mia into a chair at the nurses' station and waited. Behind the glass wall in front of me, three nurses were talking about their various ex-husbands. It sounded like the same guy to me. I was still waiting for them to figure this out when one of them came over and asked, "What's the problem?" "No problem," I said. "I just want to drop her off." We both looked at Mia. A string of drool slowly slipped from her chin to her chest. "Has she been drinking?" the nurse asked. "I'm not really sure," I said. The nurse looked back at me. "You're not really sure? Now what does that mean?" "I don't know," I said. "I found her. I thought maybe I could leave her here." "Sure, we'll just have to fill out the paperwork for that," the nurse said. She smiled at the other nurses when she said it, and I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. She had me go through Mia's pockets, but all I could find was a piece of paper with an address written on it. Five Crossings. I couldn't find her ID anywhere. The nurse entered my name and address on a form, then took us down the hall to another room. What seemed like hours later, an old, red-faced doctor finally came in. He glanced at Mia and then washed his hands in the sink. "You the father or the boyfriend?" he asked. "Neither," I said. "I've only just met her." I couldn't take my eyes off the garbage can in the corner. It was full of bloody bandages. I wondered what had gone on in there before we'd arrived. Question: What probably happened to Mia? Options: A. she got into an argument with the doctor B. she had a birthday party C. she passed out D. not enough information === The correct answer is
C

"India is OUR country" The quote we often preach but forget to deliver. I joined a club recently where I met a true Indian. I asked him about the most vivid memory of his life. One morning, as he was heading towards his office, he realized that the road he regularly takes was unusually bumpy. Upon inspection, he came to the conclusion that a truck carrying stones passed by on that road and unintentionally scattered few stones along the way. He believed that the authority of the truck will take care of this later that day. Next morning, the road situation was unchanged with stones still scattered. He parked his vehicle nearby, put on some music and started kicking the stones off the road. Within a few minutes, a school bus stopped by, students gathered around and started clapping for this true Indian. As he turned around, he said "Helping hands are better than clapping hands". As a repercussion, the students started helping this man kick the stones off the road. A task that would have taken hours to be done by one person was completed in a couple of minutes. What a great example of team work! It was this man's discretionary efforts that brought a change in the thought process of the students, India's next generation. We all point fingers and blame one another for societal problems but never act upon it. If this man, a true Indian, would have just blammed the truck driver and went on his way, would the road still be cleared? The next time we point fingers at someone for a social cause, we must keep in mind that that someone is an Indian just like us. Will a true Indian point fingers at an Indian? Are we pointing fingers at ourselves? In the end, we are all in the same team. Question: How long did it take the kids and the Indian man to clear the the stones off the road? Options: A. A couple hours B. A couple days C. A couple weeks D. not enough information === The correct answer is
A

(Question)
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." Question: Where do the Guidarizzi's live? Options: A. not enough information B. Wyoming. C. New York. D. California. === The correct answer is
(Answer)
A