(Question)
Not exactly. I have no problem with divorce since, as others have stated, everyone has their reasons, however there was one person that I dated briefly but upon hearing the reason why he divorced I opted to end the relationship. I remember, we were having brunch and were talking about our past relationships and what happened. He brought up his marriage. I had previously known his divorce but, up until this point, not the reasoning. He told me, straight out, that he had cheated. Now, cheating in itself is one thing. I try not to judge since everyone has a past and I was never always innocent myself, however his attitude about it was what was very off-putting to me. He didn't seem remotely fazed by what he was telling me at all. There he was, spreading jelly on his toast as he told me about all the women he had cheated on his wife with. He told me about how it had started with a secretary (talk about cliches!) and then graduated to trysts in motels with girls off Tinder all with the same amount of casualness as someone describing how to make an omelette! And when he finally finished the tale of his cheating adventures I asked him if he regretted cheating on his wife with so many women, His answer? "Oh Definitely." Oh good! So at least he regrets his actions, right? Or he's at least a little sorry about it> Wrong. "One of the reasons I regret not divorcing her sooner. Had I divorced her sooner, I wouldn't have to have cheated on her so much. But it is what it is and, well, I was unhappy." I have no problems with divorced men. I can forgive a man who has cheated in his past. But a man who had no problems cheating so frivolously and, in all honestly, would likely do it again without problems? Nope, not for me. The women in the text probably feels. - Intrigued. - Happy. - not enough information - Annoyed.
(Answer)
Annoyed.

(Question)
Rain, the young man is thinking. Of course it would be raining. Not a heavy, cleansing rain that leaves the streets steaming and the neatly sculptured yards lush and fragrant. This is a gray drizzling rain. A rain that makes him think of places like England and Scotland as they appear in those disturbing late night films on cable, the ones in black and white that weren't particularly memorable when they were made and are even less so now. Still, it rains and the air is cool. All he has to shelter him is a think nylon jacket. The jacket is soaked. It feels both chilly and coarse against his skin. His hair hangs in flat and sodden wings, falling into his eyes. It's long in the back, almost to his shoulders, and he thinks that the cars that pass him on the street, the occupants of those cars, might look at him and see only that he is wet and not that he is dirty as well. Can they tell that his hair has been unwashed for days? That his clothes are the same ones he's worn for more than a week? It doesn't matter. He's invisible to them as soon as they pass, taking any assumptions they might make with them. They might just mistake him for one of those hoity-toity college kids, one of those clean limbed and beaming have's who has happened to find himself caught out without his umbrella. He makes a desultory attempt to straighten his shoulders, to lift his eyes from the buckled sidewalk. To look like he might have a purpose or a destination. It doesn't help. He has become the day. He has internalized the environment. He did that years ago, in fact. That's all I can do. Not his words, of course, but he understands them. He is intimately acquainted with his limitations. What is most likely true about the young man in the story? - He has a car - He is homeless - He forgot his new umbrella that day - not enough information
(Answer)
He is homeless

(Question)
Six weeks after arriving in the United States, Hassan Abduraheem takes a seat in the back pew of Tar Wallet Baptist Church. Tucked into the woods along a country road in rural Virginia, the church holds about 50 worshippers. On this cold November Sunday, Abduraheem and his family of eight noticeably increase the congregation's size. They do their best to follow the unfamiliar English of the old Baptist hymns, which are very familiar to their new neighbors. And they share the hymns from their former home Sudan. Standing in a single line in front of the altar, the family fills the church with Arabic song. "Unbelievable," Abduraheem says repeatedly, as he describes his journey from a crowded prison cell in Sudan to a fixed-up house on the farm of his new pastor. "Unbelievable" seems like the only word that could describe the turn his life took, thanks to a Facebook post and a U.S. congressman. Abduraheem's work as a former pastor is not outlawed in his native Sudan, but Christians are a minority in a diverse country that has suffered through multiple civil wars. According to the United States Commission on International Religious Freedom, there has been "an escalation in the Sudanese government's persecution of Christians," since the 2011 secession of South Sudan. Abduraheem says his work was spreading the gospel; the Sudanese government accused him of espionage, and he was detained along with two other pastors in December 2015. "The first day when they took us to the prison, they beat us," he says softly. Abduraheem was shifted from prison to prison. For five months, he wore the same clothes he was wearing when he was arrested. His eyes became damaged from the harsh prison light. Yet, despite constant interrogations, just two meals of beans a day and a tiny cell with barely enough room to sleep, he says the worst part of prison was not knowing. When did the congregation gather? - during multiple civil wars - in November - not enough information - before arriving in the U.S.
(Answer)
in November