SHE moved through the crowded streets like she owned the place. Hell, if things went as planned in the coming months, she might in fact own the place. Or some other place if that's what she wanted. If things went as planned, there was no limit to what she could have. She smiled to herself as a crowd of sunburned, middle-aged men broke ranks to let her pass on her way toward Mallory Square. They had no idea who she was, but she liked to think that they could sense her strength and that it intimidated them. Not enough to stop them from staring openly at her chest of course, but what did she expect? They were still men. Duval Street, Key West's main tourist drag, buzzed with early evening activity. The sun had set less than an hour ago, and the throngs moving up from the nightly sunset ritual in Mallory Square now wandered about, trying to choose between the dozens of bars and restaurants vying for their attention. She moved against the general flow and seemed to know exactly where she was going. She knew these streets well and had planned out her route ahead of time. But something bothered her. That nagging feeling in the back of her brain that she'd long ago learned to heed even though it was wrong as often as it was right. You couldn't survive in her world without learning to pay attention to such feelings, and she'd more than survived - she'd prospered beyond the dreams of any young hacker or con artist. Heeding the subliminal warning, she changed plans and stepped out into the crawling Duval Street traffic. A purple taxi honked angrily but she just smiled as she strode across the street and stared intently at a display of cheap, tasteless T-shirts in a storefront window. What was bothering her? - not enough information - Men staring at her chest. - A nagging feeling in the back of her brain. - Heavy foot traffic of tourists
A nagging feeling in the back of her brain.

WASHINGTON Legal experts cast doubt Tuesday on a list of questions the special counsel purportedly wants to ask President Donald Trump, saying they would expect the veteran prosecutor to ask more and more pointed questions. The New York Times published the list of 44 questions it said special counsel Robert Mueller plans to pose to Trump as part of his investigation into Russian interference in the 2016 election. The newspaper reported that the list was compiled by Trump's lawyers based on questions that were read to them by special counsel investigators. The largely open-ended questions range from queries about Trump's firing of former national security adviser Michael Flynn and former FBI director James Comey, to general inquiries into what Trump knew about alleged coordination between his 2016 presidential campaign and Russia. While the list reflects the general line of questioning the special counsel's investigation is believed to be focused on, legal experts said the questions published are not what Mueller or any prosecutor for that matter would ask an interview subject. "It doesn't sound like questions that a prosecutor would typically ask, unless it was just a very general information-gathering type of inquiry, and they'd not limit themselves to only those question and reserve the right to ask follow-up questions," said Eric Jaso, a partner at the Spiro Harrison law firm who served as an associate independent counsel during the Whitewater investigation of former President Bill Clinton. The questions, Jaso said, were likely written by Trump's own lawyers, based on a conversation with the special counsel about topics he wants to query. "If Mr. Mueller is going to interview the president, I suspect that he's going to ask rather pointed questions rather than having questions that would allow the president to basically give a narrative and potentially go far afield from the topics that they're trying to focus on," Jaso said. Paul Rosenzweig, an adjunct professor at the George Washington School of Law... the investigation will last for: - all weekend - 2 or 3 months - not enough information - a few hours
2 or 3 months

Q: It was their first official date. Greg Tenorly and Cynthia Blockerman had been through quite an ordeal together--being hunted by police for the murder of her abusive husband while they ran from the real killer. But all that was behind them now. All charges against them had been dropped, and Cynthia's husband had been buried. And the rumors would have died down eventually if they had gone their separate ways. They could feel the stares as they walked to their table. Greg had requested the most private booth, way in the back. Coreyville Pasta House was the oldest Italian restaurant in town. And still the best. Mama Castilla had run the place for over thirty years. She had taken over for her grandfather in 1973. A sign on the wall said so. Cynthia ordered the Fettuccini Alfredo. Greg went with his favorite, the Chicken Parmesan. Both ordered iced tea and salad. The bread and olive oil with roasted garlic and pepper came with every meal. Greg could not resist great bread. And this was the best. He tore off a chunk as soon as the waitress delivered it. Cynthia would wait for the salad. "So we're finally on a real date," said Greg. "Yeah. So how does it feel?" "Kinda weird and scary and...wonderful." Cynthia smiled and Greg momentarily forgot all about the amazing aroma in the restaurant. All he wanted to do was kiss her. But that would have to wait. So, his hunger came rushing back. Cynthia's mood turned serious. "I don't want to spoil our date, but I've got to tell you something." Greg wondered if he had done something wrong. He could fix it--whatever it was. "I've asked Mom to move in with me." "Why? I thought she was happy living in Marshall." "She was." "What do you mean? What happened?" "The other night a friend of hers was murdered. And the woman lived on her street. They killed her nurse too." Who ask her mother to move live together? - not enough information - Mrs. Castilla - Cynthia's neighbor - Cynthia
A: Cynthia

(Q).
"To be real honest, Jeffrey, you're not making much progress," said Greg. "Are you practicing at all?" "Well, yeah. Mom makes me. She sits there watching to make sure I'm getting the right fingering and phrasing." "Hmm. I might need to talk to her about that." Greg hated when kids were forced into musicianship. He had been teaching private music lessons for more than ten years, and had seen it often. Parents made their kids miserable. It rarely worked anyway. "You don't really want to take piano, do you?" "No, Sir." "Well... " "I wish my mom would let me take guitar lessons. That would be cool." "You know you'd get calluses like this." Greg held out left hand and showed Jeffrey his fingertips. "Yeah! My friend, Zach, has calluses. They're hard like plastic." "Well, you know, it hurts for a while--until you build them up." "I don't care. I love the guitar. I've been begging Mom to switch me from piano to guitar." "I'll talk to her." "Great! I already have a guitar and--" "--don't get too excited yet. We'll see what she says." "Thanks, Mr. Tenorly." He jumped up and ran for the front door. Then he stopped, rushed back over to grab his piano books, and raced out the door. Greg's 3:30 lesson had been cancelled, so he now had a thirty minute break. Oftentimes, during a break, he would step outside and wander down the sidewalk, observing the townspeople going in and out of the shops around Coreyville Square. But something was bugging him. His dad's birthday party was only a few days away. He hoped he wouldn't regret letting Cynthia talk him into going. How long has Greg probably played guitar? - not enough information - For many years. - For a few days. - He just learned today.
(A).
For many years.