split: train

text:
Smoke billowed from the window of a broke-down truck that always sat at the edge of Potts farm. Nobody knew how or when the dusty behemoth of a vehicle ended up where it was. All that was known was that it had been there for years on end, never claimed and never moved. Incapable of any motion, the vehicle was often the place that delinquents and vagabonds aplenty decided to make their little niche in the world. Sitting in the front seat, Matthew Delaney smoked the Marlboro in his lips slowly.  A down-to-earth country boy, Matthew fit the part with a pair of dusty overalls and a tank top worn underneath. Scrawny to the letter and hiding his eyes behind a tangled mess of sweat-laced hair, he wasn't exactly the most attractive or noteworthy of people in the small farming colony of Plethora. A glance over brought attention to the old rifle he had stolen from his father's case. A Winchester by make, the rifle was known for its solid performance, even as old as it was. Today, it seemed, was the day that Matthew had decided to die. Another gentle puff of the cigarette brought his mind back, spiraling through the mesh of memories and thoughts he had locked away for the day. What had brought him to this point? The breakup. That's right. Amber McGraw, a girl he had been with for nearly two years had decided that they were looking at different ends of a circle. They would arrive at the same points, but regardless of how much they moved their plans around, there was never a solid corner to settle into. A shake of his head brought Matthew back to the present, a blemish of a day in his perfect plan of life. Everything he had known in the world had come to a close and there was no new chapter to this book. No sequels, no trilogy or saga to keep him wondering what came next.

Sighing, Matthew flicked the cigarette from the door and grabbed the rifle from the passenger's seat. Kicking the door as he pulled the handle, the old metal swung open with a contesting creak and squealed to rest once open halfway. Squeezing out of the narrow opening, Matthew walked to the front of the truck and leaned back. The cold metal of the grill met his back with a smack and Matthew soon found himself sliding to sit with his knees propped up. Dropping his head back, he let it rest on the truck's grill as he gazed into the night sky. Earth had been a sight back whenever he had first lived there. The large white moon above with stars littering the sky had kept him rather enraptured as a young boy. At the age of twenty-seven, however, Matthew found the night sky of Plethora to be a bit lackluster. There was no moon, only stars. The sky wasn't even that dark here. A darker shade of red, perhaps, but the early sun's rotation did little to give a working man a real moment's sleep. Shaking his head, Matthew looked down once more at the rifle he held. At least he'd be found soon. People would be out and about in an hour at the latest. Since the old “Pott's Truck” was a landmark into and out of the primary farming community that the colony was known for, someone was bound to find the poor man's body where it would undoubtedly be lying. No coyotes or decay for him. He'd at least have the dignity of a decent burial. Firming his resolve, Matthew shifted the rifle until it was placed squarely in his mouth and moved his hand towards the trigger.

Before he had even so much as touched the trigger guard, however, an explosion rocked the world around him. Wind, dust, and rocks flew towards Matthew, who was quick to drop to the side, evading a rather large rock that had been kicked up and sent his way. Forgotten was the rifle and his previous resolution, the old weapon hitting the ground with a dull clang compared to the sudden rush of noise and action around the man. Whenever his vision cleared up, Matthew went wide-eyed with disbelief. There before him, battling what Matthew had once considered friends and coworkers, was the lapdog of the Unified Colony Directorate. Aiden Desparius, a gene-soldier, was an impressive figure to find on any battlefield. Standing at just under 6 feet flat and sporting a goatee that looked as if it belonged on some cartoon villain's face, he was impressive enough without the gear he had strapped to his body armor. White flesh shifted as he dived to the side, evading a stray rifle's bullet. Muscles tightened and flexed as he punched one farmer, who dared to get close with his knife, in the nose. To see him battling a bunch of farmers and laborers was more than enough shock and confusion for Matthew, who could only watch in wonder before the desire to save his fellows overwhelmed the man's mind. Stumbling for the abandoned Winchester, Matthew raised it shakily to his shoulder and aimed at the soldier fighting his people. Unseen, he fired off the round and managed a hit. A small cheer lifted from his mouth whenever he saw Aiden crumple, one immediately copied by the farmer's around him. It died, however, whenever Aiden rose slowly from the ground. Spitting to the side, he glanced at the hole in his shoulder and turned to where the shot came from. “Mother fucker.”

They were to be the last two words Matthew heard in his current life. Seeing Aiden vanish before his eyes, Matthew gave a startled yelp and attempted to flee from where he was hunched. He had intended to kill himself that day, but now felt the very real desire to remain alive now that he had an enemy who cared enough about him to want him dead. He knew Aiden's gift, as most did, and did his best to run before the soldier reappeared. He wasn't quick enough. Aiden reappeared explosively, his body forming in midair in the space that Matthew inhabited. Vitae and organs spread like a rain, Matthew's body unable to contain the sudden stress of someone else occupying the exact space it did. The poor man's master plan for dying peacefully and with a proper funeral were shattered in the same instant that Matthew simply ceased to exist. It didn't take long for Aiden to finish his compatriots after their morale shattered, seeing such gruesome brutality.

title: Plethora

question: Summarize what happens inside the truck that Matthew is sitting in.

answer: Matthew grabbed the rifle from the passenger seat and places it in his mouth. Right before he can pull the trigger, an explosion blasts all around him. Rocks and debris fly toward him as he drops down to the side.


text:
BULLOCK CREEK HIGH SCHOOL is a 9-12 public high school six miles southwest of Midland, Michigan in Homer Township. It is part of the Bullock Creek Public Schools District.

Athletics

The Bullock Creek athletic teams are known as the Lancers and the school colors are black and gold. The Lancers compete in the Tri-Valley Conference. Bullock Creek High School has been a member of the Tri-Valley Conference since 1979.

The following MHSAA sanctioned sports are offered at Bullock Creek High School:[1]

-   Cross Country (girls & boys)
-   Football (boys)
-   Soccer (boys and girls)
-   Tennis (boys and girls)
-   Volleyball (girls)
-   Basketball (girls & boys)
-   Bowling (girls & boys)
-   Competitive Cheerleading (girls)
-   Wrestling (boys)
-   Baseball (boys)
-   Golf (girls & boys)
-   Softball (girls)
-   Track & field (girls & boys)

[1]

title: Bullock Creek High School

question: What grades do students attend Bullock Creek High School?

answer: Students attend Bullock Creek High School from grades 9 to 12.

question: What conference is Bullock Creek High School a part of?

answer: Bullock Creek High School is a part of the Tri-Valley Conference.

question: What are Bullock Creek High School's school colors?

answer: Bullock Creek High School's school colors are black and gold.

question: At Bullock Creek High School, how many sports are available exclusively to girls?

answer: At Bullock Creek High School, three sports are available exclusively to girls.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Bullock Creek High School is a high school in Michigan. Their athletics teams are called Lancers and they have a large variety of sports available.


text:
EVERYDAY REWARDS (formerly WOOLWORTHS REWARDS) is a loyalty program owned and operated in Australia by Woolworths Group. The principal participant in the program is Woolworths supermarkets, Big W,[1] BWS, Caltex/Ampol, and Caltex Woolworths/EG.[2] , Everyday Rewards has over 12 million members.[3]

Members can collect a minimum of 1 point for every dollar spent (with some limited exclusions) at participating Woolworths supermarkets, Woolworths online, BWS, Big W, participating Caltex/Ampol and Caltex Woolworths/EG. Once members reach 2000 points they will automatically get $10 off a future shop. Members can also choose to bank their savings for Christmas. If a member has a Qantas Frequent Flyer card added to their Everyday Rewards account they can then choose to convert their Everyday Rewards dollars to Qantas Points. In addition, shoppers who spend more than $30 in one transaction at a Woolworths supermarket are entitled to fuel discounts, which must be redeemed within 28 days at EG (Caltex Woolworths co-branded) and participating Caltex or Ampol outlets. This entitlement can be stored electronically and accessed by presentation of the Everyday Rewards card, limiting the need for members to carry receipts with them. However, these fuel discounts are still printed on receipts if a member does not scan their Everyday Rewards card. Everyday Rewards also offers members points boosters, extras and favourites (offers and promotions).[4][5]

History

Everyday Rewards was first trialled in Central West New South Wales from September 2007.[6] This followed Woolworths' announcement that it was planning to launch a general purpose credit card in 2008, the Everyday Money credit card.[7]

During the NSW trial, 50,000 cards were issued to customers.[8] In February 2008, Woolworths announced that following the NSW trial, Everyday Rewards would be rolled out nationally, beginning with South Australia and Northern Territory in mid-February, and to other states by the end of May 2008.

By early May 2008, the scheme had been extended to Victoria, Western Australia and Queensland and by the end of May 2008 to all mainland states (excluding Woolworths and BWS stores in Tasmania.[9]). Woolworths stated in June 2008 that “well over a million” shoppers had taken a card and registered their details.[10] In July 2008, Woolworths stated that the program had exceeded expectations, with more than three million cards on issue.[11] By August 2008, there were 3.8 million cards “on issue”, with 2.4 million cards “registered”.[12]

By June 2010, Big W had withdrawn the fuel discount benefit for cardholders in Western Australia and South Australia,[13] and in August 2010, Big W also withdrew from the fuel discount benefit for cardholders to all of Australia (except Tasmania).

In May 2012, Woolworths started offering in-store discounts to Everyday Rewards members who use the card.[14]

On 26 October 2015 Woolworths announced that, from 1 January 2016, customer loyalty cards would no longer earn Qantas Frequent Flyer points. Instead they will receive more discounts on groceries. The new discount program came into effect on 28 October 2015. Everyday Rewards cardholders will be sent new 'Woolworths Rewards' cards.[15] The furore over this new program caused Woolworths to do an about-face and offering their customers the choice of redeeming their Woolworths Rewards for Qantas points.

In April 2016, doubts were expressed over the effectiveness of the new program with claims by analysts that the program has not gained traction in the community and is possibly a cause of the slow down in supermarket sales growth which has slowed to 3 per cent.[16] On 22 August 2016, significant improvements to Woolworths Rewards were announced. As of 31 August 2016, members will earn rewards on every dollar they spend in Woolworths' Supermarkets and BWS stores, and for the first time, members will also earn on every dollar they spend at Caltex Woolworths outlets.[17]

On 29 July 2020, Woolworths Rewards rebranded as Everyday Rewards.[18] Everyday Rewards was launched in Tasmania on 6 August 2020 replacing the Frequent Shopper Club loyalty program in the state which would be phased out by 2021.[19] The Frequent Shopper Club was Purity Supermarket's loyalty program which Woolworths retained after its purchase of the chain due to an arrangement with Purity and because of its popularity.[20]

Qantas Frequent Flyer program

In December 2008, Woolworths and Qantas entered into a six-year agreement to allow Everyday Rewards members to earn Qantas Frequent Flyer (QFF) points for purchases at Woolworths supermarkets.[21] In June 2009, details of the arrangement were announced. Under the arrangement Everyday Rewards members would earn one Qantas Frequent Flyer point for each dollar over $30 spent in one transaction at Woolworths (or Safeway) supermarkets (excluding Tasmania) or Woolworths liquor stores. To earn these points Everyday Rewards members would need to also have and link a QFF account, and the QFF joining fees were waived for new QFF members.[22] Woolworths was to pay the QFF program for QFF points earned by members under the arrangement.[23]

The program was later expanded to include some of Woolworths Limited's other stores including Big W and BWS.[24] From October 2009, cardholders could collect one point per dollar for every dollar over $50 spent in one transaction at Dick Smith and Tandy,[25] however those stores' participation stopped in September 2012.[26]

In August 2009, of 3.8 million Everyday Rewards cards “registered”, 1.2 million were linked to a QFF account,[27] which increased by August 2010, to 5.1 million cards registered, of which 2.7 million were linked to a QFF account.[28]

On 26 October 2015, Woolworths announced it is splitting with Qantas to revamp its Everyday Rewards Program.[29][30]

On 15 December 2015, Woolworths Rewards announced a new partnership with Qantas Frequent Flyer giving customers the choice to convert their Woolworths Dollars, earned through buying orange ticket products, into Qantas Points at a conversion rate of 870 Qantas Points for every 10 Woolworths Dollars.[31]

On 22 August 2016, Woolworths Rewards announced that members would now have additional redemption options, including converting their savings to Qantas Points.[32]

On 1 October 2019, Woolworths Rewards increased the rate at which points are converted to Qantas Frequent Flyer points. Instead of 2,000 Woolworths Rewards points converting to 870 Qantas points, this increased to 1,000 Qantas points. Upon reaching 2,000 Woolworths Rewards points, those points would now be converted within 24 hours (rather than in blocks every 3 months).[33]

[1]

[2]  Everyday Rewards|url=https://www.woolworthsrewards.com.au/partners/eg.html%7Caccess-date=2020-08-17%7Cwebsite=www.woolworthsrewards.com.au}}

[3]

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[14]

[15]

[16]

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[19]

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[33]

title: Everyday Rewards

question: Why was the rewards program rebranded?

answer: The original name of the program was Woolworths Rewards, and the new name is Everyday Rewards. The rebranding is likely due to the rewards system not being exclusive to Woolworths supermarkets. While it encompasses the Woolworths group and partners, the original name was too limited -whereas Everyday Rewards can be easily understood as a rewards system for a wide variety of services.


text:
There it was: the biggest Kjrussich that J'nah had ever seen. Blood dripped from it's front fangs as it sat on it's haunches, gnawing at the bones of one of J'nah's family's livestock.

His father had warned him not to go looking for the beast, but J'nah couldn't stand watching as his family farm was slowly ravaged by the beast, each night taking more livestock and leaving less and less for his family to sell come market time.
He had come prepared, carrying the large spear he had fashioned out of Bondwood and  Jettite, and a pouch full of throwing stones hung at his side. Following the beast's tracks in the freshly fallen methane snow had led J'nah right to the beast's lair among the craggy outcroppings in the valley below the pastures.

Crouched in the shrubs, he watched and waited for the right moment to strike. He knew that his spear must strike where the Kjrussich's four shoulder blades bet, at the point on it's back just before the spinal spikes began. Off in the distance, a hazy orange glow meant a dust storm was on it's way.
The beast turned away, reaching for another tasty bite. It's back was toward him-- now was the perfect time to strike. Wiping the sweat from his scaly forehead, J'nah crept forward, his padded footclaws silent on the snow.

The beast stopped eating and sniffed the air with a fierce sound. Before J'nah could plunge his spear into the vital spot, the Kjrussich spun around, snarling with all fangs bared, blood dripping. It meant to defend its lair at any cost.
In his lessons at the younglings' council, J'nah had learned well the legends of brave heroes who would go off to battle and slay monsters courageously. He had always hoped that when the time came for him to earn his surname, his actions would make him known as "Foeslayer" or "J'nah the Bold", like the warriors of old. At that moment, he thought it was more likely to be "J'nah the Swift Coward."

The Krjussich lunged at him, and J'nah leapt to the side, stumbling on top of a snow frosted boulder. With a dreadful howl, the beast whipped around and spat a dart at the youth. He felt the sting as it lodged in his arm. The paralyzing numbness kicked in almost immediately, rendering his spear arm as limp as his grandmother's home-cooked  Bessintaa Noodles. His spear fell to the ground. The Kjrussich howled and raised all four arms in a threatening display. J'nah found himself against the wall of the outcropping, trapped.

Just overhead, a spark of flame illuminated the sky. Something seemed to be soaring down through the atmosphere towards him and the beast at incredible speed. In a second, the object was upon them: a great metal ball, firing jets of flame downwards. It was all J'nah could do to shield his eyes from the incredible could of dust that arose as the thing lowered itself slowly upon it's pillars of flame. He heard another terrifying howl, from the Kjrussich, but felt to fangs or claws.

He opened his eyes as the dust began to recede. The metal thing had burnt the beast to a shouldering crisp with it's jets of flame, and landed on top of the charred remains. J'nah reached forward to grab his spear with his good arm. The thing made no further movements, just sitting there like some sort of strange sky rock. It's body shone brighter and looked sturdier than forged Jettite, except for one spot: a huge glass eye. It seemed to be staring straight at him.

There was no way to know what this thing was, but judging from the way it destroyed the Kjrussich, it was nothing friendly. J'nah thrust his spear through the glass eye and felt it shatter with a satisfying crunch. He didn't stop to make sure he had killed it, instead seizing the chance to run home as quickly as his legs could carry him. The dust storm beg and to whip into a frenzy just as he reached the door. He knew that by the next morning, the metal thing and the remains of the Kjrussich would be buried beneath the ever shifting sand and snow. His father would be proud of him, though. He knew that on this day, he had earned his surname: "J'nah Spear-Arm".

At mission control in Houston, TX, all the status indicators on Harvey Bridges' screen went offline. He cursed. The tense, silent atmosphere in the room as Titan Lander Darwin 1 entered the atmosphere of Saturn's largest moon would be broken with disappointment.

"No status report," he announced, "Looks like the probe must have disintegrated as it went through Titan's atmosphere. Show's over, folks."

title: Hunt (Sci-Fi short story, 797 words)

question: Why does J'nah attack the sky rock?

answer: He is afraid of it and thinks it might be hostile.

question: What was the sky rock trying to accomplish?

answer: The sky rock was a probe meant to observe Titan, Saturn's largest moon.

question: Who build the Titan Lander Darwin 1?

answer: NASA

question: What would have happened if J'nah didn't hunt and kill the Kjrussich?

answer: It would have continued to ravage his family's livestock until there was nothing left, and they would go broke.


text:
**Heresy**
*by A. Heretic*

God is.  Long ago, before He created time and space and all it contains, He was very powerful – but did not have unlimited power.  He knew He would expend nearly all His power in the creation of the universe He wanted.  He had to plan carefully so He would not exhaust His power before it was completed.  This was probably fortunate, He reasoned; retaining power over His creation may corrupt even Him.

He would create a closed system with conservation of matter and energy governed by a set of natural laws and using the smallest form of matter as building blocks.  It all began with a single spark of incredible energy.  That ever expanding system became the universe we observe today and continues to evolve.

He knew that life would eventually emerge under the right conditions and that there would be a struggle to survive.  Life forms evolved into many different species of animals and plants.  His ingenious plan of natural selection allowed those species best suited for survival to replicate and proliferate.  Natural selection happens to be His plan for life in the entire universe.

He observes with keen interest the emergence and evolution of life throughout His creation, but does not interfere with or intercede in it.  He became particularly interested when intelligent life evolved in the form of humans on His tiny planet Earth.

They became capable of abstract thought and developed an innate curiosity about the world in which they live; at least, some of them did.  Most could not have cared less, perhaps because they are struggling just to survive.

God noticed that humans have emotions just like He does, except he never becomes angry.  He decided anger is a bad emotion for humans to have since it ends rational thought.  Perhaps it evolved at a time it was needed in natural selection, He concluded.

He is saddened by the manner that many humans regard and treat each other; after all, they are all the same species.  There are always wars ongoing with many deaths, and crimes – many involving murder.  He believes that humans killing other humans is the major downside of natural selection and hopes they will evolve out of this terrible behavior.  He looks forward to a time when the virtues of bravery and courage are no longer spoken of in terms related to humans killing humans.

God became very dismayed when humans invented religions to worship Him.  He knew they would be used to justify wars and inhumane acts; besides, He does not want to be worshiped.  He believes humility is a virtue.  He doesn't even care whether or not they believe He exists.

He wishes humans did not yearn for a paradise in a hoped-for afterlife.  There is none and He cannot create one.  Moreover, considering the human psyche, He thinks they would soon become bored with such an existence.  They should be content knowing every atom and molecule that is or has been part of their being will likely become part of another living organism or natural wonder.  Still, He wonders if it's acceptable for them to believe something that gives them hope and peace of mind, yet is delusional.  God doesn't know the answer.  He wants them to be inspired and creative, yet able to separate fantasy from reality.

He believes the soul they speak of is the essence of one's personality, develops over one's lifetime, and dies with one's body.  Surely, He thinks, if souls were immortal He would have met one by now.

He has spent many an hour trying to fathom the human mind, with little success.  He decided to turn to one of His Enlightened humans who also studies the human mind, a doctor of psychology.  Although inroads are being made, the human mind is still largely a mystery.  God began reading a book by one of them who expressed the way the mind works in metaphorical terms.^1  The writer compared the mind to an elephant and its rider.  The mind is governed by emotions that are centered in the primitive brain and reason that is centered in the neo-cortex or modern brain.  The elephant represents the emotional brain and the rider represents the rational brain.  It turns out that the emotional brain, through natural selection, still holds sway over the rational brain in most humans.  The rider may try to guide the elephant in the right direction – but, ultimately, the elephant goes where he wants to go.

Ah, thought God, this explains why humans who consider themselves moral beings keep getting into trouble with sex, corruption, and addiction.

God increasingly worries about the fate of His humans.  As their living standards rise, more of Earth's limited resources are consumed.  A warming climate will mean less land is available.  Modern medicine and cultural mores are leading to overpopulation.  Will overpopulation and pollution soon make their world uninhabitable?

Now that humans have developed nuclear weapons, will there eventually be a nuclear war, begun intentionally or not?

Their machines have already displaced humans in many areas.  Will the continued advancement of intelligent machines eventually make all humans unnecessary; or will technology be their savior?

=+=

God has Brothers and Sisters who also created universes.  Some of these universes succeeded and formed; others did not, perhaps because a constant in one of its natural laws was slightly off.

Occasionally, They visit to check on each others' work.  One of His Sisters came for a visit and asked about His universe.

He said to Her, “Of all the intelligent life in My universe, I have become most attached to humans on Earth and most concerned about their future.  I believe they are evolving to be more like Me, and I want them to succeed.  I know they have the ability to solve their problems, but I don't know if they can find the will.  I fear they are on a relentless path towards self-destruction.”

    1 - “The Righteous Mind” by Jonathan Haidt

title: Heresy - A short philosophical fiction piece [MF]

question: What makes this piece "heretical"?

answer: God thinks many things in this story that contradict Christian doctrine, such as that he does not desire religion, there is not afterlife, and souls are not immortal. In general God appears as an Enlightened, rational person. This is a kind of satire of religion in general, as though "if God existed, he would be rational."


text:
_BITTER IN THE MOUTH_ is a 2010 novel by Vietnamese-American author Monique Truong. The novel is written in a stream of consciousness narrative structure and follows the character of Linda Hammerick as she comes of age. Linda remembers her childhood in Boiling Springs, North Carolina, in the 1970s and her relationships that follow, through college and beyond. Her present mingles with her past as she learns of her heritage and deals with death, sexual abuse, cancer, adoption, unwanted pregnancies, and family issues. Throughout all of these experiences, Linda lives with a secret extra sense, the ability to taste words, which she later discovers is a form of synesthesia.

Characters

Linda Hammerick

Linda is the main character of the novel. She is a New York lawyer who grew up in Boiling Springs, North Carolina, and she has a form of synesthesia that causes her to taste words when she hears them. Part one of the book, “Confession,” focuses heavily on her childhood, with details about her adult life interspersed. Linda tells the story of her best friend Kelly, her next door neighbor Wade, and her rapist, Kelly’s cousin Bobby. She also reflects on her close relationship with her great-uncle, whom she and most other people call Baby Harper, as well as her relationship with her mother DeAnne and her father Thomas. It is made clear that Linda’s childhood was traumatic in several ways. In part two of the book, “Revelation,” we learn more about her long-term relationship with Leo, which is only briefly mentioned in the first half of the novel. She also has to grapple with the death of Baby Harper and the prospect of returning to Boiling Springs.

Linda’s Vietnamese roots are not revealed until the very last scene of “Confession,” when she is graduating from Yale and they call out her birth name: Linh-Dao Nguyen. At this point, several pieces of the puzzle that is Linda’s life fall into place for the reader, and throughout the second half of the novel she directly addresses the problems she faced as a Southerner who looked different than people thought she should.

Kelly Powell

Kelly is Linda's best friend from childhood. They begin exchanging letters when they are children, and they continue to do so even after Linda moves out of Boiling Springs. The two bond quickly because of their mutual obsession with Dolly Parton—which they swear to tell no one about—and the fact that they live on the same street. Linda reveals her synesthesia to Kelly when they are young, which shows how deeply Linda trusts her. Kelly and Linda both experience sexual abuse at the hands of Kelly's male cousin, Bobby. The two also share a childhood crush, a boy named Wade. Linda eventually dates Wade, although she conceals it from Kelly. When Kelly is a teenager, she becomes pregnant and leaves town, only revealing the father of the child—the pair's shared childhood crush, Wade—when Linda returns to Boiling Springs as an adult. Although they had grown apart since Linda moved to New York, they become closer again when she returns to Boiling Springs after the death of Baby Harper.

Baby Harper

Harper is Linda's uncle. She considers him to be her first love, and he is the member of her family with whom she has the closest relationship. He is a mentor, confidante, and parental figure for Linda. Baby Harper is a photographer and has a collection of photo albums he calls H.E.B.'s, which are filled with photos of everyone but himself. While she is living in New York City, Linda receives photo albums from Baby Harper that contain photos of him dressing up as a woman. Baby Harper was closeted for a long time and would always be the one taking the photos rather than being in them, so this is a very important moment in his character arc. Harper is closeted for most of the novel, but reveals to his family that he is gay when he begins seeing Boiling Springs's funeral director, Cecil. When he and Cecil die suddenly in a plane crash, Linda returns to Boiling Springs and is able to come to terms with his death.

DeAnne Hammerick

DeAnne is Linda's adopted mother. She has trouble accepting Linda as her own child. The two are estranged for most of the novel because Linda believes that Deanne knew of her rape but did nothing about it. By the end of the novel, DeAnne reveals the story of Linda's adoption, and the reasoning for her difficulty accepting Linda becomes more clear.

Thomas Hammerick

Thomas is Linda's adopted father who corresponds with her Vietnamese mother Mai-Dao after she leaves him to go back to her fiancé in Vietnam. Thomas takes Linda in after writing her mother and learning of the conditions in Vietnam over a period of years during the war. He is also the one who gives Linda a book on the history of North Carolina that she often comes back to reference throughout her story.

Iris Burch Whatley

Iris is Linda's grandmother, Baby Harper's older sister, and DeAnne's mother. She died in 1987. Iris was known for never telling a lie, which fearfully kept the family together. Iris and Linda did not have a close or loving relationship.

Minor characters

Other characters include neighbor and crush Wade and long time boyfriend Leo.

Plot

Bitter in the Mouth is a story told nonlinearly. The reader is given pieces of the puzzle of Linda’s life, slowly accumulating information until the whole picture can be seen. The novel opens with an epigraph from To Kill a Mockingbird, immediately followed by the title of the first half of the novel—“Confession”—which focuses most heavily on Linda’s childhood. The opening scene introduces Baby Harper, Linda’s beloved uncle. Then Linda recalls the death of her grandmother, Iris. Linda is haunted by the words her grandmother spoke while on her deathbed: “What I know about you, little girl, would break you in two.” In response to this, Linda simply says, “Bitch,” a reflection of her tumultuous relationship with Iris that is later revealed to be rooted in Linda's ethnicity. Shortly after, Linda explains her form of synesthesia: she can taste words, both when she says them and when other people say them.

We are then introduced to her best friend, Kelly. She and Kelly are neighbors, and become friends after Kelly sends Linda a letter welcoming her to the neighborhood. Kelly is the only person that she tells about her synesthesia. They devise a plan together for Linda to smoke so that the “incomings”—the tastes she senses—are stifled in order for Linda to focus in school. The two share a childhood crush; they both like a boy named Wade, but Kelly calls “dibs” on him so Linda is unable to talk about her feelings toward Wade. Linda and Kelly are also both sexually assaulted by the same person: Kelly’s cousin, Bobby. Kelly’s encounters with Bobby are known fairly early, but Linda reveals the details of her rape slowly as the novel progresses.

Linda has an extremely close relationship with her uncle, Baby Harper; he acts as a parental figure for her. Linda talks about her uncle’s passion for photography, but he is never in any of the photos himself. He collects his photos in albums that he labels H.E.B.’s, his initials. Linda then goes into detail describing what Baby Harper told her about her father’s family.

Wade is then brought into the novel through his conversations with Linda at the bus stop. Immediately after, the reader is alerted to the fact that adult Linda was in an 8-year relationship with a man named Leo whom she never told about her synesthesia, a fact that alerts the reader to the state of their relationship. There are also more hints about her rape at the hands of Kelly’s cousin, but the full story still isn’t revealed.

Linda then talks about the relationship that develops between her and Wade. They begin dating in secret; Linda knows she can’t tell Kelly, and says that her friendship with Kelly matters a lot more than a boy. Eventually, Wade asks Linda to have sex with him, but then Bobby “enters the room”—trauma from her rape haunts her, and she tells Wade no. Their relationship ends and he moves away.

It is then revealed that Linda once tried to tell her mother about her synesthesia, but her mother told her that she wouldn’t tolerate craziness in her family. This is a nod toward Linda’s adoption, which had not yet been addressed—the statement meant that if Linda wanted to be accepted into DeAnne’s family, she couldn’t step out of line.

We then come to learn the intimate details of Linda’s rape as she tells them to Baby Harper. Bobby would mow the lawn of Linda’s house, and DeAnne flirted with him constantly. One day, when DeAnne left, Bobby asked to use the bathroom, and when Linda let him in he raped her. She was left with bruises on her neck and thighs. It is understood that her mother knew what happened, but instead of being there for Linda, she pretended that her daughter had gotten her period. Then, before Bobby was going to come back to mow again, he died. He crashed his car into a telephone pole, his head went through the windshield, and DeAnne went to the funeral. When Linda told Baby Harper the story, he got red paint and they went to the cemetery together. There, they each painted the word “rapist” on a side of the headstone. After learning about her rape, we also learn about the death of Linda’s father, Thomas. He died in his car in the driveway of his young secretary, whom he was having an affair with.

The next big event in the novel is when Kelly gets pregnant. She goes away for the duration of her pregnancy, and her aunt adopts her child. The father of the baby isn’t revealed until late in the novel.

The first section of the novel ends with Baby Harper coming to Linda’s graduation from Yale. As she walks across the stage and her name is read, her Vietnamese background is revealed; her full name is Lihn-Dao Nguyen Hammerick. Up to this point in the novel, her Vietnamese heritage is alluded to but never explicitly stated.

The second part of the novel is called “Revelation,” and focuses more heavily on Linda’s adult life (though both parts of the novel are nonlinear, so we continue to learn details about Linda’s childhood in this part as well). The fact that Linda was adopted is stated clearly. Linda recalls a time that she accused her grandmother of disliking her; Iris simply said that didn’t stop her from being Linda’s grandmother.

The novel then jumps forward, and Linda reflects on when she found out she had ovarian cancer. She went into the doctor at the request of Leo, her long-term boyfriend turned fiance. Leo wanted children, and when he found out Linda couldn’t have any, he immediately moved out of their shared house and left her. Linda then reveals their backstory.

Adult Linda lives in New York City and works as an attorney at a law firm. While she’s in New York, she stays in communication with her uncle, Baby Harper. He sends her four of his H.E.B.’s, but it isn’t explained what’s in them until later. At this point, Baby Harper has come out to his family as gay—something that Linda suspected for a long time, but he never said to anyone outright—and is with a man named Cecil, who has a funeral home. The two travel together, and Linda receives updates on their travels. One day, Linda gets a call from her mother, and she finds out that Baby Harper and Cecil have died in a plane crash. When Linda finally works up the nerve to tell Leo, instead of simply comforting her and going back to Boiling Springs as she asked him to, he proposes. Linda says yes, even though she doesn’t love him. Shortly after, the contents of the photo albums are revealed to the reader: it’s a series of photos Baby Harper took of himself dressed in women’s clothing. The photos start with him as a teenager and slowly become more curated and sophisticated as time passes.

Linda goes home six months after Baby Harper’s death. She sees Kelly again, who is staying in Baby Harper’s house. She and her mother work on their relationship; she shows DeAnne a PBS program about synesthesia that she herself watched, hoping that her mother would understand. DeAnne watched the program four times, a sign that she wants to heal her broken relationship with her daughter. Cecil’s nephew and his partner take over Cecil’s funeral home, and Kelly is asked to live in Baby Harper’s house permanently. Then Kelly tells Linda that Wade is the father, and Linda asks if Kelly knew about her relationship with Wade. Each woman already knew about the other’s secret.

The novel ends with the story of Linda’s early childhood. Her mother tells her all the details. Thomas, Linda’s father, met a woman named Mai-Dao when he was in New York City for law school. He fell in love with her, but Mai-Dao went back to Vietnam and married the man she’d been engaged to. They kept in touch by writing each other letters. Mai-Dao eventually moved into a trailer in Chapel Hill with her husband, Khanh. During this time, bad things were happening in Vietnam, and they were scared for their family there. Thomas offered his help, and Khanh found out and was very unhappy. Then, their trailer burned down, and Linda’s biological parents died. Thomas immediately drove to Chapel Hill and took Linda. DeAnne, who had learned about Thomas’s relationship with Mai-Dao, agreed to adopt Linda only if they never spoke of her birth parents again. The novel’s closing lines are, “We all need a story of where we came from and how we got here. Otherwise, how could we ever put down our tender roots and stay.” Linda finally gets the full story of her life, and the pieces of the puzzle fit together for her at the same time as they fit together for the reader. Linda is able to blend together her Southern Vietnamese and Southern American roots in order to create her own “South,” and become authentically herself.

Critical response

Critics have looked at the novel in terms of Linda's synesthesia, race, sexuality, and experiences with trauma. Justin Mellette states that _Bitter in the Mouth_ is an essential Southern novel in which a multiplicity of voices joins beyond the black/white racial binary to encourage readers to consider the “Global South”. [1] Denise Cruz discusses the novel in terms of the queer and multiracial South in her article, “Monique Truong's Literary South and the Regional Forms of Asian America.”[2] The novel also sparked interest among literary food studies critics. Jennifer Ho looks closely at Linda's perceived race in a chapter in her _Racial Ambiguity in Asian American Culture_.[3] In _Eating Identities: Reading Food in Asian Literature_, Wenying Xu explains “the inextricable involvement of food and sexuality” in novels by Monique Truong and Mei Ng, looking at Linda's synesthesia.[4] In a chapter in a collection about food and literature, Lisa Hinrichsen writes about Truong's novel by looking at the subject of trauma and food in the story.[5] In a review in the journal _Gastronomica_, Margot Kaminski describes how the novel uses Linda's synesthesia as a way to make her more unique. Even so, Kaminski argues that this uniqueness does not make it harder for readers to relate to her, but adds another dimension to “what it’s like to be Linda.”[6]

Linda's synesthesia is a clever tool used by Truong to describe the experiences of embodiment and trauma that many immigrants feel when they are racialized in America, specifically the South. The uncontrollable bombardment of tastes - good and bad - released at the will of others affects Linda in many ways that are beyond her control. The synesthesia forces her to recall specific memories, good, bad, and traumatic, so that she is never allowed to forget what specific events felt like. This “gift” keeps Linda from concentrating in school, and she tries smoking and other forms of tobacco to try and numb the tastes. This experience is reminiscent of wartime trauma that Linda experiences in her own body and the many ways victims try to numb the memories. Borders are being crossed violently in Linda's own personal space, which reflects the broader global issues that she experiences, but are bigger than herself, such as the Vietnam War and the life of an immigrant in the American South. Linda's synesthesia is employed as another example, in addition to her race and sex, of how she is made to feel “other” and exploited. In her 2016 essay “Double Consciousness of the South Asian Identity”, Vandana Pawa discusses how it feels to be made an “other” in the American South and tells how she feels constantly exploited for her South Asian ethnicity and consumed by whiteness. [7] In the same way that Linda's synesthesia is both gift and disability, she experiences the gift and disability of her ethnicity and race in white washed America and must come to terms with her various identities.

Book reviews in major newspapers were generally positive. In his review in _The New York Times_, Roy Hoffman called the book “a moving investigation of invented families and small-town subterfuge, a search for self heightened by the legacy of Vietnam and the flavors of language.”[8] In the _Los Angeles Times_, Diane Leach wrote, “Truong's bone is the outsider's plight, and her pen is a scalpel, laying perfect words down along that nerve until even the happiest reader understands what it means to forever stand apart from your family and the larger society you inhabit.”[9] Writing in _The Boston Globe_, Diane Wright called the novel “a beautifully written, complex story of self-discovery.”[10] In a less favorable review in the _San Francisco Chronicle_, Joan Frank observed, “Truong's writing is workmanlike, its energy sustained, and now and again it yields a lovely line: 'Another word for pray was wish, and only children wished.' But Linda's tone to me often sounded as if she were reciting a series of grievances, secure in the knowledge they will appall.”[11]

_Bitter in the Mouth_ was selected as one of the 25 Best Fiction Books of 2010 by Barnes & Noble and was awarded as Honor Book, Asian/Pacific American Awards for Literature by Asian Pacific American Librarians Association. [12]

Intertextual references

Linda references several real-world figures and works throughout her story. The novel is prefaced by a quotation from _To Kill a Mockingbird_ by Harper Lee; Linda later discusses how she relates to the character of Scout. Linda makes consistent references to a history book entitled _North Carolina Parade: Stories of History and People_ by Richard Gaither that was given to her by her father. The history of Virginia Dare and the Wright Brothers' first flight plays a prominent role in her thoughts throughout the novel. Another historical figure that Linda relates to is George Moses Horton; his poetry and life are mentioned several times in the novel. By adding her narrative into these Southern references, Truong stresses the importance to re-examine the “body” represented in South literature. [13]

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[7] https://saalt.org/double-consciousness-of-the-south-asian-identity/

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[13]

title: Bitter in the Mouth

question: What is Bitter in the Mouth?

answer: Bitter in the Mouth is a 2010 novel by Vietnamese-American author Monique Truong.

question: Summarize the book Bitter in the Mouth.

answer: Linda remembers her childhood and her relationships through college and beyond. She had to deal with death, sexual abuse, cancer, adoption, unwanted pregnancies, and family issues. Linda has a secret extra sense, the ability to taste words.

question: How is Linda related to Kelli?

answer: Kelli is Linda's best friend.

question: Why did Leo leave Linda?

answer: Because Linda could not have children.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer: Bitter in the Mouth is a 2010 novel by Vietnamese-American author Monique Truong. The novel follows the character of Linda Hammerick as she comes of age. Linda remembers her childhood and her relationships through college and beyond. She had to deal with death, sexual abuse, cancer, adoption, unwanted pregnancies, and family issues. Linda has a secret extra sense, the ability to taste words. Bitter in the Mouth was selected as one of the 25 Best Fiction Books of 2010 by Barnes & Noble and was awarded as Honor Book, Asian/Pacific American Awards for Literature by Asian Pacific American Librarians Association.


text:
Dear parents (and siblings, relatives, close ones) of transgender persons,

I’m writing this letter because I don’t want what happened to me to happen to anyone else. If there’s a transgender person in your life whom you love, I have no doubt you want the best for them. I’m hoping we can work together for a moment to make sure the person you love experiences your care.

What I have to say isn’t a treatise or transsexual manifesto. I just want to share my personal experience so you can hear the feelings of a transgender person other than your loved one. Sometimes we’re so close to someone that we can’t see them clearly. I hope that by intruding my own voice, you can hear the voice of your transgender loved one more clearly.

If anything from my experience resonates with you, I pray that you take it to heart.  I don’t know your situation, I can’t experience your unique pain, and I can only feel my own experience and glimpse the experience of those closest to me. I want to generalize from my own life, but you should only take in what makes sense for you in light of your own situation.

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MY EXPERIENCE.

 My story is that I’ve experienced some form of gender dysphoria for as long as I can remember. When I was a child, this experience was secret. I felt different from everyone else in a way I couldn’t put into words. My parents knew nothing about this. I was a quiet child who didn’t complain much even though I was constantly sick, and I obeyed my elders (and peers) without question. When I crossdressed (starting age 4 or 5), it was almost always in secret. My parents only witnessed a few incidents which they were able to write off as “normal for a young boy,” but they weren’t around to witness the frequency of it. This wasn’t their fault. From an early age I intuited that it was “bad” not to conform, so I kept everything bottled up. My parents didn’t know because I didn’t let them know. Children can be surprisingly perceptive and astonishingly deceptive.

When I passed through a male puberty around age 13, my gender dysphoria went from quietly perplexing to all-out agonizing. It was like my brain and body were flying in opposite directions and stretching me between them like taffy. As my body became more masculine and my peer group became more demanding, I found I couldn’t just go with the flow like I did when I was a kid. Now I had to make a concerted effort to please people and hide the secret part of me. I would present myself as masculine to the outside world, but then I’d retire to my room in the evening and just lay there for hours imagining myself bridal shopping or dancing in a billowy skirt.

This double life was exhausting, and every year I spent more and more energy trying to shut down my girl identity so I could keep on pretending to be masculine. I tried everything in my power to embrace my “God-given masculinity,” all the while shutting down my heart more and more until I could barely feel anything. The only hopes and dreams I had were the ones other people dictated for me.

After 21 years of this, I finally collapsed. I’d used up an entire lifetime of energy to pretend I was a boy. Even my deepest reserves were utterly spent. I felt like I could barely lift my head in the morning. I wanted to keep on being the person my family expected me to be, but I simply couldn’t. Emotional breakdowns became more and more frequent. Whenever my fuel reached empty, the curtain I was holding up to so desperately hide myself would simply fall to the ground because my hands couldn’t hold on one more second.

So finally, not by my own choice, I confronted what I’d been running from for 21 years. I admitted I was severely gender dysphoric. And as I allowed my heart to speak for the first time in many years, I also admitted exactly why I was gender dysphoric: _I feel like a girl_. Not  _I_ _feel feminine_, but _I truly and utterly down to my very bones feel like a girl who everyone in the world mistakes as a boy_.

Eventually I told my parents. It was the most terrifying experience of my entire life. After 21 years of thinking I had to present a certain image in order to find acceptance, my entire self-esteem rode on that moment of revelation. My parents were understandably shocked, confused, hurt, and afraid. They gave me their first reaction: this is a lie of Satan, and we need to pray over you to expel this transsexual demon.

I wasn’t  terribly troubled by this initial reaction. I put myself in their shoes. This was out of nowhere for them (which was my fault). They coped with their shock by turning to the simplest and most readily available explanation: that Satan had tricked me into this.

We had many discussions after that first one, most of which were very painful for both of us. We both had so much to say, but couldn’t speak through our torrent of emotions. They came to me with many theories about why the story I’ve told up to this point is inaccurate. My mom, crying, handed me a book of my drawings from when I was a kid. She showed me pictures I drew of pirates and cowboys, and said “_This_ is the child I knew. You were a _boy_.”

In these conversations we always ended up talking past each other. We talked about Scripture, our Church tradition, what could have made me transgender, and all other sorts of things, but we missed each others’ _grief_. Neither I nor them were really present to the other’s pain because we were all hurting so much on our own. I don’t think it was anyone’s fault, but it unfolded that way because we couldn’t talk about where the real pain was coming from.

Now it’s too late to have that conversation. Our relationship has been damaged to the point where only God can heal it by a miracle. I’ve been cut off from my family. I can no longer see my younger siblings. We’re a broken household, and I’m alone in the world. My parents are hurting more than they can bear, and so am I. I wish I could rewrite history, but I can’t. Instead, I want to help you in any way I can. You’re going to hurt, but there’s some pain that can be avoided.

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MY PARENT’S GRIEF, AND MAYBE YOURS AS WELL.

Gender is a huge part of who we are. I think that’s why issues of gender like this are so painful for everyone involved. We attach so much of what we know about a person to their gender. If that gender paradigm is challenged, it challenges everything we know about that person.

When I came out as transgender, my parents were overwhelmed by how different this was from what they thought of me. In fact, they simply couldn’t bring themselves to see me any differently than they always had. They love their son Anthony with every aching bone, every breath in their body. They’ve fed their little boy, carried him in their arms, and kissed him goodnight for so many meaningful years. They love that boy with all their heart. This new “girl,” Anna, is an intrusion. These feminine characteristics, these new clothes, they aren’t part of the child they remember raising. These aberrations must be something foreign – a demon, a deception, or a sinful choice.

My parents are hurting so much because they’re mourning their son. In their hearts it feels like the son they’ve cared for so tenderly is _dead_. Everything they say and do about me comes from that feeling. The reason I’m cut off from them now is because _I’m_ not really _me_ in their minds. They believe I’m someone else now, someone different than the boy they raised. They’re too hurt by their son’s death to even acknowledge me. Their love for Anthony is unconditional. They refuse to acknowledge Anna because Anna is not Anthony. It’s _Anthony_ they love unconditionally, and no one else.

I believe there are other parents who feel similar to mine. I know some of you have said things to your transgender children like, “You are dead to me.” And I know you didn’t say this to be mean. You said this because this is how you feel. You feel like the child you knew is dead. That hurts. I’m so sorry you feel that.

It’s important for you to remember what you’re grieving about. Everything else is secondary. Scripture and theology are valuable, but chances are when you initially turn to them for support, what you’re really doing is grasping for something, _anything_, to keep your child from dying. Maybe you want your child to live a respectable Christian life and give you lots of grandkids. Maybe you’re terrified of what the neighbors think. Maybe you’re terrified that this makes you a bad parent. There’s a lot to sort through, but the biggest grief is the passing of your child. Nothing is more painful to even the most callous parent than losing a child. And you aren’t a callous parent. You’re a Christian parent who wants to love.

In all your interactions with your transgender child, that grief is going to come through. It’s going to propel your words and color your vision. You need to feel that grief, acknowledge it, and acknowledge how it’s affecting you.

Once you do that, you need to let yourself sympathize with your child’s grief. It’s not enough to be distressed at their pain. You need to try to glimpse their innermost sadness.

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MY GRIEF, AND MAYBE YOUR CHILD’S AS WELL.

When I came out as transgender, I was also overwhelmed. I still am. Chances are your child is too.

Try for a moment, if you can, to put yourself in my shoes to see how I feel. Maybe your child feels similar, maybe not, but I know for a fact that many transgender people feel as I do.

Imagine that for as long as you can remember what you’ve really wanted more than anything else is to be loved and cared for. This was so important to you that you’d do _anything_ to be loved, even if that meant hiding many of your feelings and desires. Sure, everyone told you _true love is unconditional_, but when you played with your friends or watched television you saw that weird people get made fun of and normal people get rewarded. You don’t even really understand what “normal” is, but you feel different. So you imitate others in the belief that love is conditional and you need to be like others.

But after many years of hiding, you’re still incomplete. You don’t want to be loved just for certain parts of you, but for _all_ of you, and when people tell you “I love you,” all you can think is “well you wouldn’t love me if you knew everything about me.”

So finally, after much agonizing, you go to the people who’ve promised to love you no matter what. You put their love to the test, not because you want to find out if they really love you, but because you _need_ their love.

So you tell them this deep dark secret. You’re afraid they won’t love that part of you too. You’re afraid love has conditions. But you tell them anyway, because you’ve reached the point where you have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

When you tell them, to your dismay they confirm all your worst fears. All those secret worst-case scenarios and hidden nightmares you’ve been harboring your entire life come true right before your eyes. Love _is_ conditional. There are parts of me that _can’t_ be loved. I _do_ need to perform to be accepted. And no matter how many times your loved ones assure you “we love you unconditionally,” their words seem empty to you. Everything they do and say screams something else. They tell you the transgender part of you is bad; they’re fine saying this because they don’t really think it’s part of you, but all you feel is _they think I’m evil_. They tell you they cannot love Anna, and they’re fine saying this because they don’t think you’re really Anna, but all you experience is _they don’t love me_. They forbid you from coming to family events, and they allow themselves to do this because they think the real you is gone anyway, but all you experience is _I’m still here and I’m hurting like hell_.

Transgender parents, this is what I’ve experienced from how my parents reacted to me being transgender. Your child might feel the same way. Please know the power you have to give them affirmation.

Whether or not you think transgender identities are a lie, whether or not you accept the gender dysphoric part of your child, whether or not you even think their gender dysphoria is a real part of who they are, what’s important is that this is how your child is experiencing your rejection. It doesn’t matter if you’re right. Your child is hurting to the core. You need to understand or at least acknowledge that grief if you’re going to preserve your child.

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THE REALITY OF GENDER DYSPHORIA.

 If your child identifies as transgender, there are many objections you might have. Maybe you think identifying as anything other than a “child of God,” including queer or transgender, is a sin. Maybe you’re afraid that your child is adopting a liberal transgender agenda by using that label. Maybe you’re afraid that your child will transition, which you believe is a rebellion against God’s created order.

All these fears are smoke screens over the basic facts.

It doesn’t matter what you believe about transgenderism. It doesn’t matter what you believe the correct standard of care is for a person who experiences gender dysphoria. It doesn’t matter what you think causes gender dysphoria. You first need to acknowledge – _really_ acknowledge – your child’s experience, even if you think that experience is delusional.

Gender dysphoria is very very real. It’s also very uncommon, which means you as a transgender parent are special. Count yourself blessed or cursed – you’re dealing with a unique parental hurdle and it’s going to be difficult.

Even though transgenderism is relatively rare, it’s a fairly well-documented phenomenon. Most people line up remarkably well biologically and psychologically as 100% male or female, but exceptions do occur on almost every level. Gender dysphoria is an exception on the mental and social level. Your knee-jerk reaction may be to push your child back into 100% conformity, but please first stop and consider that maybe your child really is one of these remarkable exceptions. Maybe they aren’t making this up.

I’ve experienced gender dysphoria since I was a small child. My parents cannot grasp this. They’re incapable of believing anything other than I’m making this up or rewriting my history. But the fact remains that I’ve always experienced gender dysphoria. I have nothing to gain by lying about my experience of gender. In fact, I’ve lost everything by being honest.

It’s extremely hard to empathize with a transgender person. Our experience is difficult if not impossible to grasp. Your child is going to have a _very hard_ time communicating their feelings and experience to you. If they change the way they talk about their gender, it’s not because they’re flip-flopping. In all likelihood they’re just trying on different words to more accurately communicate an experience that we don’t have words for.

What does gender dysphoria mean to me? I was born biologically male, but I identify as a woman. You’re knee-jerk reaction may be “but you’re not a woman!” and then end the discussion there. But whether I’m correct or not, I _actually_ experience myself and believe myself to be a girl. If you tell me I’m not a woman, it doesn’t sway me at all, it just invalidates me. It’s a conviction that’s so deep, 22 years of constant effort to change it couldn’t budge it an inch. I went to pastors, prayer ministers, even an exorcist, and that conviction remained.

No one chooses to be transgender. It’s not a fashionable social trend. There’s nothing trendy about losing your family and facing the anger of society. Who volunteers to be a leper? If our collective voice has gotten louder in recent years, it’s only because our pain has reached a boiling point. All the political correctness in the world doesn’t ease our need for genuine love and respect.

At the end of the day it doesn’t matter what you think the proper treatment for gender dysphoria is. The first and most important step is to simply acknowledge the fact that your child is gender dysphoric. It’s difficult being gender dysphoric. If your child chooses a particular course of care like hormonal transition, they aren’t being brash or rebellious. They’re choosing how to respond to the _fact_ of their gender dissonance. Whether you agree with their choice of treatment or not, you need to find a way to stand beside them in their predicament.

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MEETING THE STRANGER IN THE ROOM.

As I’ve become more and more outwardly feminine, my parents have treated me increasingly like a stranger. Sometimes they talk about me like I’m not even in the room. They talk about the “boy” me and “girl/transgender” me as two separate entities, one of which is their son who died, and the other of which is the deception that murdered their son. This is their way of conceptualizing their grief, which is completely understandable. However, I’m afraid they’ll be stuck there for a very long time.

If you’ve believed your child to be one person their entire life, and now they come to you saying they’re someone else, how do you cope?

You need to grieve the person you think you’re losing, but that’s only the first step. After that, it’s _essential_ that you find your child again and celebrate who they actually are. You owe it to yourself and to your child.

In doing so, you should remember four truths about your child: they are INFINITELY MYSTERIOUS, their life is IN FLUX, they HAVEN’T CHANGED as much as you think, and they’re STILL HERE.

_1. Your child is infinitely mysterious._

First, you need lots of humility. I know you conceived, bore, and raised your child. You know your child more intimately than anyone else, and that’s incredibly beautiful. However, I’m sure deep down you also know how strange and mysterious this child really is. You can spend every day of your life with someone and still not have more than an inkling of what’s going on in their heart. Think of your spouse. You are joined to them, and yet how incredibly _other_ are they to you? This is true of everyone you meet, but it’s harder to grasp when it’s your loved one.

If your child is saying something about their gender, whether they’re 3 years old or 30, they need to be taken seriously. You need to see them as the manifold, complex, deep person they are. Your ideas of who they are, whether it’s your idea of gender, emotions, or inner motivations, will always only scratch the surface. This is scary, but it’s very important to come to terms with. People are made in the image and likeness of God, and like God we’re all terrifyingly mysterious. You need to give yourself room to learn about your child. It’s a lifelong process that will never truly end.

_2. Your child’s life is in constant flux._

Second, you need to acknowledge as a fact how your child is _now_, not just how you experienced them 10 years ago. We’re all constantly changing; the person we were 10 years ago is so different than the person we are now. Yes, you’re the same individual that you’ve always been, but how much have even your hobbies and interests evolved in the last few years? You experience this in yourself all the time, so the trick is letting yourself experience it in your child. Yes, your child’s revelation about their gender may seem sudden to you. It’s hard to digest change all at once since normally we experience it gradually, but the same basic principle is still at work. You can love your child across change now as much as when the changes were harder to notice.

_3. Your child hasn’t changed as much as you think._

Third, don’t let the trappings fool you; your child is still the same person. Especially if your child is physically transitioning to live as their preferred gender, it’s easy to get caught up in how much they’ve changed. This will distract you from how much they’re the same. I liked boxing before I came out, and I like boxing after. I liked cooking before I came out, and I like cooking now. I was a hopeless romantic then, and I still am. I still have the same insecurities, hopes, fears, and attachments. I drew cowboys and pirates when I was a kid; well guess what? I’m more into pirates and cowboys now than I ever was before!

The only difference is there’s more of me now, not less. I don’t only express the parts of me that people expect from a guy; I also express the parts that I once kept hidden. Those parts were always there to begin with, so even the things I do that my parents see as a radical change were really already there to begin with.

Sadly, they haven’t gotten to know the “new” me enough to realize it’s really still the old me.

_4. Your child is still here._

Fourth, your child is still alive. It may feel like they’re dead, but the same heart that started beating in their mother’s womb is still beating now. My parents may think that there’s an old true “me” and a new false “other person,” but really I’m just one person. Whether you call me Anthony or Anna, or consider me a boy or a girl, I’m just _me_. Even if you think Anna isn’t really who I am, I still feel hurt when you reject Anna. I’m here, alive, feeling the full weight of rejection. And this same me is the person who was conceived by my parents, who was masculine to them for a long time, and who came out to them as transgender. It’s all one person: me. And your child is one person who’s still there and feeling everything. You may think their personality has been so swallowed up by this “other” gender-switched “alter ego” that they aren’t really there anymore. I can tell you: they are fully there, fully alive, and fully feeling. They may have evolved, but they haven’t changed. If you cut them, they still bleed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

HOLDING YOUR CHILD’S HAND.

When I told my parents that I was physically transitioning, they told me they cannot walk down this path with me. That was when I was officially cut off from my family.

I understand their decision to some extent. After all, they disagree with my transition. How can they walk down a road that they believe is wrong?

As Christians we’re called to walk with each other, and we need to make a distinction between agreeing with someone and walking with them. I think my parents have bought a lie that Christian culture tells us: that you need to agree with how people live their lives to be present to them, lest you “enable” their “lifestyle.” Whether you agree or disagree with someone is entirely beside the point. The call is to _walk with people_, whatever their situation is.

For one thing, if it turns out that I’m wrong, how would I ever find the truth if everyone who supposedly loves me abandons me? Isn’t our model supposed to be Jesus Christ? Jesus spent most of his time with all the “wrong” sorts of people: tax collectors, prostitutes, zealots, Romans, lepers, and a ragtag bunch of fishermen with anger management issues. Scripture doesn’t say he went into the slums to tell people why they were wrong; it tells us that he sat with them and ate and drank in their presence. He didn’t love them _after_ they changed their life; he loved them, and as a result their lives were changed.

I think it’s significant how much we talk about Jesus’ love, and yet not once did he go up to someone and say “I love you.” Instead he _showed_ them his love. No matter how many times you tell your child that you love them, your words will mean nothing if they don’t _experience_ your unconditional affection.

I think it’s also important how everyone has their own idea about how to respond to transgender people. There are so many theories, speculations, opinions… Just consider how different your idea of transgenderism might be from your child’s. With all these clashing voices in the air, can’t we all have the humility to admit that at the end of the day transgenderism is a mystery to us? Maybe then we can move forward with fear and trembling, but also with hope that God will sort things out.

Yes, HOPE. Hope and trust are key here. Too often we get so caught up in culture wars that we lose sight of the bigger picture. If we really believe in an all-powerful loving God, then we must believe that the Holy Spirit will lead this ship safely to port.

So how can you apply radical faith, hope, and love to your transgender loved one? I think it’s really simple, and once again Jesus provides the answer.

Just think about how Jesus treated outcasts. The Pharisees and disciples were busy making theories about why some people are born different. They thought that if you were blind, it was punishment for your wickedness, or maybe your parent’s sins. How much does this sound like how Christianity responds to transgender people? But what was Jesus’ response? All Jesus heard was the cry from the side of the road. All he saw was the person in need of love. All he cared about was the person in front of him.

I think that’s a pretty simple model to follow. I don’t think you need to overthink it much. I’ll let you figure out in the quiet of your heart what that kind of love means for you and your transgender child, but again: I think it’s _very_ simple.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you found something helpful in this letter. I pray for you and your loved one, that you may enjoy God’s love together even in this life.

With deepest affection,

Anna

------------------------------------------------------------------------

_“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, __I will not forget you!”_
(Isaiah 49:15)

question: Why did the narrator feel different from everyone?

answer: They felt the need to stay in the closet for the sake of their parents and loved ones.

question: What happened when the narrator came out to their parents as a transgender woman?

answer: Their parents tried to dismiss it as "Satan's" lies and the narrator was forced to cut ties with their parents.

question: How did their parents handle their coming out?

answer: Their parents felt terrified.

question: What does the narrator hope to gain from sharing this story?

answer: They are hoping to help other parents who are coping with their child being trans or possibly help others come out as well.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator shares their story of how they came out as a transgender woman to their parents.


text:
                      He Tried Not to Think

He wandered aimlessly. He didn’t think. Thinking took too much effort. He walked. Just walked, because that was all he could do. His phone was in his pocket and he endured the cold while he waited for it to ring. The breeze ran down the street and bit and tore until it worked its way into his skin. He was not walking to anywhere in particular or for any other reason than to stall. The streets were deserted and the park by the lake contained nothing but the geese lagging behind on their journey south.

His mind trailed off. Where could she be? What could she be doing? When was the last time I saw her? Does she even want to see me? Am I simply just wasting my time? No, no, no he thought; don’t let your mind wonder off. Thinking hurts too much. She cannot just be gone without a goodbye or a mere fare thee well.

Nine p.m. she said. We will go to the movies, and then have dinner. It would be wonderful but reality is never like your expectations.

He approached the pond and walked down the hill till he was on the middle of it. He sat down and looked out across. It was calm except for the ripples caused by the wind. The silence was the best part. Silence was a commodity he longed for. He didn’t need everyone telling him that it would be alright, you need to get out some, she isn’t coming, but what did they know?

Snow began falling. He and she were heading down the road one night. The winter storms had rolled in and the snow blinded their way as he drove. The tree lined road was interspersed with the occasional home or driveway leading deeper into the woods. The snow was so bad that it was near impossible to see more than twenty feet ahead, but the road he drove on, he had been on a thousand times and it was practically a straight line. Yet then he saw a blur dash in the road. Then he felt the wheels leave the ground and the crashing of glass and the crumple of steel and the cold air rushing in. The car pushed in around them forcing them closer together as it continued to tumble down the road until they came to a rest with his body pressed against hers with nowhere to move. The next moment he was in the snow with eyes looking over him as the cold embedded itself in his bones.

 He felt his phone in his pocket and looked at the time: ten-thirty. No missed messages, no missed calls, not anything. He put it away and stared at the light on the other side of the lake. He wrapped his hands around himself and stuck them under his arms to stay warm and waited for a call. Ten-forty-five. At ten-forty-five it finally arrives. The phone rings and he answers. Contempt, hate, rage, and longing coursed through him. He didn’t speak immediately. Control was important, nothing good comes from impulse. “Hello my dear. Is it as I fear? Will I still see you here?”

“No my love, I am coming now. I’m sorry, I am sorry I took so long. The people I was with just kept rambling on and on, like loons, but don’t be mad; I will be beside you soon.”

A consolation time, being second, what else should one expect?  Don’t expect anything, no ever expected anything from him, so he was never disappointed. He said. “Okay then. It was your time, and never mine but yours to spend. I just thought it was on you that I could depend.”

He let the cold slip in further. His ears went numb, then his cheeks, and then his toes. Finally he stood up and proceeded home. He opened the door and the warmth hurried out. The couch welcomed him, and hugged around him when he sat down. Eleven o’clock his phone said now. Better late than never he thought. Then twelve came around. Then one, and then finally his eyes fell shut and he gave up.

As the days wore on after the crash he slowly pieced together what happened while in a hospital bed until his memory finally returned and he was able to make sense of everything. Countless faces with sad, pitying smiles expressing halfhearted condolences and apologies paced through the room ceaselessly for days and days. He was constantly in the presence of the one or two who actually cared but they were of no help to him. He asked almost hourly how she was doing but in return he only received saddened faces and pitying looks that he so longed would just go away. Maybe deep down he knew what actually happened. Maybe one day he would be able to actually face it. His mind wouldn’t accept it though. Even when he was cleared to leave he would ask his friends if he could see her.

It went on until people stopped being nice about it. They started shouting, they started to bluntly say what hurt him the most, and they no longer felt the need to give a reassuring lie because it was time to face what happened. It was of course for no use though. The shelter of his mind kept him warm and blanketed from the harsh unforgiving world around him. Then one day people just gave up. He was left to himself. People would show up occasionally but only to drop off food and other groceries. He was slowly being forgotten and left to be a part of the past.

One day though he received a phone call, “Hello my love, it’s been far too long. Will you be busy around nine so that we can dine and once again be fine? How about a movie or we can just be joyous and sing songs until morning’s dawn? I will be there then my dear, don’t fear.” The call ended just after and he was left bewildered but so happy to have heard her. He waited. He waited until nine had become ten and he could take it no more and he had to leave for a walk.

He woke up with hands running through his hair. Cold hands. He looked up and saw her. The smile crept across their faces as they stared. “Hello my love,” he said looking above, “why have you taken so long?”

“Because here my dear, is not where I belong. You have known this for far too long. Yet it appeared I must come along, to remind you that I am always here. I am always there. To be a reminder to you that things only get colder and harder, but never darker”

“But my love you must explain. Why am I in so much pain? Why must you be so delayed?  I have love for you that cannot be swayed, but I would rather just end this masquerade. I would rather you just have always stayed.”

“And one day soon. That will happen for you. Though it may hurt, I promise you will just simply awake. With my hand in your hair and a smile in which we both partake, and I won’t be cold, I will be something you can actually hold. And be far more than Lenore or some forgotten lore. I will be yours.”

And then she was gone. He felt his head. It was still cold. He
checked his phone and saw no calls. No messages. There was nothing at all. There was nothing at all to ease his mind. So he lay there, just trying not to think.

For days after he stared at his phone in the hopes that she would call again. The phone though stayed blank with no calls, messages, or anything of the sort that would light up the screen. He couldn’t take it. He was just there with her. Once again he had her next to him for her to only disappear as before but this time he really was alone. He really didn’t have anyone. He was already become a part of the past. He belonged to a particular moment in time that he could not escape. There was nothing left for him here, so he went to join her.

title: He Tried Not to Think (revised)

question: Who phones him at 10.45?

answer: Nobody. It is a figment of his imagination

question: Why does he wait on the ice and in the elements?

answer: He may be punishing himself for driving her to her death? Perhaps he has a death wish of his own.

question: Is someone playing mind games with him, phoning and making a date and then not pitching?

answer: No, it is all a dream and when he awakes her cold ghost hands touch his forehead.

question: Why did he give up and die?

answer: Because she didn't reappear in his dreams. He couldn't bear to be parted from her a second time.

question: Write a ~16 sentence summary.

answer:
The narrator wanders around in the icy snow waiting for his girl to phone him. How could she desert him without a farewell? She’d made arrangements to spend the evening with him. He walks to the middle of the frozen pond and sits upon the ice.

As the snow begins to fall, he remembers a similar evening when the two of them were driving through the snow. They were in an accident.

Now he waits for her to phone. She phones and says she’s on her way. But it’s 11 pm, then 12 then 1 and his eyes fall shut and he gives up.

After the accident, he was surrounded by pitying people all trying to help, offering condolences. Maybe one day he could face what actually happened. Eventually, people stop visiting or calling him.

Then one night she calls him and her cold hands run through his hair. Then she is gone. There are no messages, no calls. There is nothing left for him so he joins her.


text:
[]

NEW DELHI: In an attempt to break the impasse over the passage of the Goods and Services Tax (GST) Bill, Prime Minister Narendra Modi on Friday invited Congress president Sonia Gandhi and former Prime Minister Manmohan Singh for tea at his residence.
The face-to-face meeting between the two political rivals would be the first since the BJP won a landslide victory 18 months ago, and could herald a compromise between the government and the main opposition party on GST and a number of other bills scheduled for discussion and passage in the winter session.
On his various trips abroad, PM Modi has assured foreign investors that he would make the landmark indirect tax law a reality by 2016. Finance Minister Arun Jaitley on Thursday said that Modi is willing to discuss the GST bill with everyone so it can be passed. "We have absolutely no hesitation even at the level of Prime Minister, we have never had in it in the past, we don't have it (now). He is willing to speak to everyone," Jaitley said.
The Congress had stalled the passage of the GST Constitution Amendment Bill in the last session of Parliament and demanded that a revenue-neutral rate not higher than 18 per cent be mentioned in the bill. It is also opposed to states being given powers to levy an additional 1 per cent tax on the supply of goods over and above the GST rate.
On Friday, Modi is also likely to make the concluding remarks at the ongoing Parliament discussion on Constitution Day. A war of words over the word 'secular' is already on since Thursday.
Shortly after the House met on Thursday, Home Minister Rajnath Singh, in his speech on India's Constitution and its architect Dr B R Ambedkar, called 'secular' the most misused word in Indian politics and asked why the words 'Secular' and 'Socialist' were added to the preamble of the Constitution by a Congress government in the 1970s.
Rajnath even targeted actor Aamir Khan over his remarks on rising intolerance in the country. "Ambedkar too faced injustice and discrimination due to social iniquities, but kept control over his feelings, and always presented an objective point of view," the minister said.
"He (Ambedkar) never said how much he is being insulted in India. He said he will live in India for strengthening the country. He never thought he will go somewhere elsewhere," he said, drawing strong protests from the opposition benches.
A furious Congress hit back, with Sonia accusing the Modi government of deliberately attacking "the ideals and principles that inspired the country for decades". "The people who have no faith in the Constitution, who have not contributed to its making, they are talking about it repeatedly, are trying to appropriate it. There cannot be a bigger joke," she said.
Read this story in Marathi
(With agency inputs)

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question: Write a ~0 sentence summary.


text:
     The cool familiar smell of the Sanctuary. The dank, chilly air from the A.C. In the summer, the warm hum of a electric heater in the winter.  A trashcan, a bathroom, and a computer.  All in the my Sanctuary.  Walking down the stairs you turn a 90 degree angle to the bulk of the room.  There is one of those tiny basement windows there too, built as some sort mandatory state law that their must be a window in every basement.  My computer in the far corner (safe from any lines of sight), a gun-safe, a T.V. That wasn't ever on, and two couches that are used for sleeping.  This place is mediocre to the uninitiated, few understand its safety, its cold charm, its steady state.

	The 90 degree corner from the stairs is absolutely essential.  This is because of its strategic cover in the case of a gun fight. I removed the light bulbs as so I don't make the mistake of having the lights on during a raid or intrusion.  This would cause a shadow to be cast onto the enemy’s line of sight, giving away my position.  See the absolute importance of the 90 degree corner is that you have a surprise vantage point of attack.  Hearing them through the wall walking down the stairs is also a great advantage because you know their pace and their position. They could never know yours as long as the lights are off.  The tiny basement windows is absolutely essential as well as it gives you a clear line of sight to the nearest road, that way the enemy would have to move on foot to preserve his intentions from me.  This again is a distinct advantage.

	I only leave my Sanctuary to eat at night as the cover of darkness allows me to enter the second more exposed level of the house. I turn the 90 degree corner cautiously, with my handgun drawn. It's clear but I knew that, I would certainly be alarmed if the enemy had penetrated the perimeter.  Up the stairs and into the kitchen quickly I went. Thankfully the food only takes moments to heat then it is back to the safety of the Sanctuary.  The air is great, the smell of safety, and my heart slows down.  I've done good.  Mission accomplished.

	Once I had finished my meal almost immediately my heart sank as I hear a car door close.  The blood rushes to my head and I feel hot, immediately running to the tiny windows I peaked my head out of a corner.  A car I’ve never seen before had just pulled in to the driveway. I quickly grab my gun as thinking that this is indeed the moment.  I peak out, weapon ready, and a man in all black gets out of his car and goes to the passenger side door.  The man then reaches in and grabs a large bag and immediately heads towards the direction of my front door with confidence.  The bell rings and I cock my weapon.  The enemy at this point is holding his ground and I'm not stupid enough to fall for this belligerent show of force. I wait at the familiar safety of the 90 degree corner. Then to my surprise the car door closes again. The car then pulls into my neighbor's driveway and the same confidence is shown again by the enemy. This time my poor neighbor opened the door.  I had a shot on the enemy but any civilian causalities will not be tolerated. The enemy then pulls out a pizza box to my sweet relief.

	Safe again in the Sanctuary, the smell comes over me again and I realize I’m fine.  I unload my weapon and pull into my computer desk.  The computer was no ordinary computer.  This computer was completely anonymous, as so the enemy had absolutely no chance of back tracking me to this location. The familiar sight of the penguin of Linux always soothed me as well but not near as much as my strategic lines of sight or my training.  Typing and computing is slow with an electronic keyboard to prevent key loggers from obtaining information and Tor makes browsing just as cumbersome.  Not as cumbersome as it is for the enemy and that is reason for all of this.

	After a few gloriously peaceful hours on the computer, I became thirsty.  Nearing dusk I couldn't risk going to the refrigerator to get any canned beverages so I would have to drink the silver filter purified water from the water cooler.  $3000 of 21st century filtration technology.  The municipal water supply is most certainly contaminated with chemicals to make the public unaware of the enemy's growing presence and power.  I knew though, it was so obvious, poison the water and everyone will know.  Any other filtration device would most certainly lead to trace amounts of the poison and I wouldn't dare risk that. The water is as cool and as crisp as the air of the Sanctuary. Growing tired I set my alarm and go to the safety of the couch.

	The cold leather couches.  Laying on the non-decoy couch is as religious experience I know.  I reserved the best most secure place in the Sanctuary for the sleeping quarters.  And of course left the decoy, complete with a replica of myself to the tee.  The decoy was at an angle to were coming from the sacred corner will result in spotting my feet poking out by the enemy, most certainly alarming the enemy to my 'position' and blowing his own cover.  The real sleeping couch is placed so that I can see the entirety of the decoy couch and slightest bit of the last step from the stairs.  Perfect line of sight for a counter-attack. I set my alarm for 3 hours.  Just enough to get rest without being belligerent myself.

	When I awake the newspaper boy is right on time just past 6AM.  Good boy.  I get some water form the purifier and start my daily ritual of checking and cleaning my gun safe.  Everything is there.  The Ruger 45 caliber single action.  By far one of the most reliable handguns ever made.  It is my carry and it deserves special attention.  The AR-15 Semi-Automatic rifle is almost never used thankfully and it is only for multiple assailants and far to bulky for my use.  As well as a suit of Kevlar which again won't be used until the enemy breaks perimeter as to not damage it by unneeded wear and tear.  Anther everything needed to make my own ammunition, not that I needed to make any more bullets as I have enough to last many life times.  But it is important to note how the enemy has been known to provide faulty ammunition to sabotage any attacks.
	After this I go to the corner were the boxes of MREs are waiting.  If the enemy knew did something right it is how to feed their peons in battle.  Of course these Meals Ready-to-Eat are made by a fellow fighter I met online.  These are the real deal and will sustain me as to not blow my cover by going upstairs in this peak time of day. This time of day could be used by the enemy as some sort of cowardice ruse of gaining entry by using children, or mailmen.

	After I finish my meal it's time for anther 3 hours until my guard must begin again.  The Sanctuary is preserved for anther day it's air still cool and musky, and it's safety enveloping me.  These days were the enemy is not around fill me with great joy, but a part of knows that with each passing day is the one day closer to the actual attack.  How could I be ready for such a great enemy? What kind of sick tricks could they come up with next?  I know one thing is that when I go down it will be here.  Here in the only place that feels right.

title: [MS] A short story I wrote for english class, I really enjoyed it, any thoughts on it? Perspective of a man with insanity/PTSD(?).

question: Summarize the high point in the narrator's day.

answer: The point at which the narrator has the most adrenaline seems to be when they successfully go to have their meal. The point at which they are the most at peace seems to be when they return to the sanctuary post-meal, safe and full. It seems the remainder of the days and nights are spent preparing for the unknown, suspended in a state of anxiety induced by their "insanity/PTSD" (the author's word choice).

question: Summarize the narrator's mindset.

answer: According to the title, the author suffers from insanity and post-traumatic stress disorder. They are on guard all the time, and paranoid to a fault-they spend a lot of money on an intensive water filtration system. They suspect the pizza delivery person of something undetailed but dread-inspiring. The narrator lives in a cycle of habituated paranoid behaviors that enable them to perpetuate their beliefs by never stepping beyond the rigidly-fixed comfort zone.

question: Summarize what led the narrator to subscribe to the beliefs illustrated in this story.

question: Summarize one plot twist in the story.

answer: The enemy in the car is really just someone delivering pizza to a neighbor. The narrator gets all worked up as they spy on the vehicle and its driver from the safety of their compound-like home. The narrator has their weapon cocked and ready to fire in anticipation that this character has nefarious intention. They refer to this pizza delivery person as the "enemy".


text:
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