Write a question from the passage such that it identifies a character (a person or a thing) in the passage.
--------
Question: Mr. Drake hurried into the trailer, and Ethorne, Gwenny, Johnny Tepes, and I looked up as Mrs. DeLyon followed him. He looked at me. "Where would Digger go?"
I shrugged and blinked. The question made no sense; Digger would not go anywhere. When he slept, he slept for ten hours. You could toss him around like a sack of potatoes, and he would not wake up. With one exception. "Bathroom?"
Mrs. DeLyon shook her head. "No."
Mr. Drake said, "And he's not in any of the beds. We looked in all three."
Mrs. DeLyon said, "And under them. And I called for him. He wouldn't hide from me, would he?"
I shook my head. Ethorne got up, went to the door, and shouted, "Digger! Where is you, Digger-boy? You don't need to hide no more. Everything's fine now!"
The dogs barked in response, but no person answered.
Mrs. DeLyon said, "Call Dr. Lamont. Maybe Susan put him in the backseat and forgot to tell us."
Mr. Drake's voice held as little hope for that as Mrs. DeLyon's, but he said, "All right."
Mrs. DeLyon said, "We'll get Chris to bed in the meantime."
"I'm in charge," I said.
Ethorne said, "When there's nothing you can do, you might as well sleep. Save your strength for when you need it."
Mrs. DeLyon said, "Don't worry. At least one of us will stay in the trailer until your folks get back."
Gwenny said, "C'mon, boyfriend. I'll see you to your bed."
I said, "I can go by myself."
Gwenny looked at Mrs. DeLyon, then at Johnny Tepes. "Well, that's a blow to a girl's ego."
They smiled without much humor, and Mr. Drake hung up the phone.
Ethorne said, "What is it?"
Mr. Drake said, "Let's get Chris to bed first."
I stood and went to the door. "G'night."

Answer: Who is not in any of the beds?

Question: I had seen it before, those fuzzy, furry leaves and stalks, with the pretty, star-pointed purple flowers, but up until that moment that I saw them sitting in a basket at the market stalls, I admit I had never taken notice of it as a food. It grow along cracks in stone walls and along the roadside near my home in Settignano, which is blooming with spring goodness right now: robinia (black locust) trees, wild garlic (three-cornered leek) and even elderflowers are already bursting.
I asked the vendor just to double check, "Is this borage?" "Si," Came the answer, "Borragine." He confirmed. "I've had it in ravioli," I started to say, "Brava!" He said, as if we were about to start a guessing game on what could be done with it. Actually, there's a lot that can be done with it. If you can use it as a ravioli filling with ricotta, then you can imagine it taking the place of spinach in gnudi, too, but also soups or frittata or stirred through polenta.
I learned that the flowers are just as delicious, if not more interesting, for their delicate cucumber-like flavour people told me of their use in salads or cocktails like Pimms, and someone even mentioned she freezes them in ice cubes, what a pretty idea for those first warm nights when you can dine al fresco, homemade cocktail in hand. Then there's risotto and of course the fritters, much like these ones. Or you can simply deep fry the clusters of buds that haven't yet burst open like these deep-fried robinia flowers.
borage and ricotta crepes
The problem, I was thinking, as I took home my bag of borage, is that I can't decide what to make. There's simply too much choice.
I consulted two of my favourite books that also happen to be cookbooks. Patience Gray's Honey from a Weed and Luigi Ballerini's A Feast of Weeds. Both had wonderful ideas for borage (and indeed many other edible, foraged plants).

Answer: Who told the author that the plants were borage?

Question: As someone diagnosed with bpd this question kinda tugged at my heart, for a few reasons.
From my understanding, the core of the disorder is an unstable sense of self and an inherent shame or worthlessness.
Before I was treated I thought I just needed someone else, the right person to come along to love me in just the right way, being mindful of trauma and never triggering my symptoms.
I was living in a fantasy world.
You cannot expect another person, a whole person with a sound mind and stable to sense of self to subject themselves to the circus act of our lives. We can't even manage it ourselves!!
I have been in two long-term relationships, and dozens of short ones six months or less. One of the two began when I was very low and lasted a very toxic 3 years. I entered treatment during that relationship, which resulted in it's demise. I was much happier afterward.
The second relationship began after I completed treatment. We have seperated twice during the past 2 and a half years, and our relationship is currently rocky as well. But who I am in the relationship has changed.
I am no longer the girl who needs extra reassurance daily that he's coming home from work. I can breathe when he goes to hang out with his friends. I am not threatened by every waking thought of his not being about me. Instead I am the woman that validates him and myself in arguments, and I put respect over everything. Of course I lose my temper. Self improvement is a constant process.
But, to avoid hurting anyone you love, you should definitely talk to a counselor if you are looking for another person to help you :) For family members/lovers/caregivers, it's stressful and often results in a lot of resentment in the relationship!
Be safe!

Answer:
Who does the author no longer worry about coming home from work?