diff --git a/training/amygdala_stories/direct/aha.txt b/training/amygdala_stories/direct/aha.txt index 8db9fd9..f470f7f 100644 --- a/training/amygdala_stories/direct/aha.txt +++ b/training/amygdala_stories/direct/aha.txt @@ -1,5 +1,5 @@ -She'd been working through the problem, sifting through all the disparate parts — then suddenly, it all made sense, it all clicked into place. The pieces arranged themselves in a single motion. She sat there, catching up to what she'd already seen. +She'd been working through the problem, sifting through all the disparate parts — then suddenly the pieces arranged themselves in a single motion. She sat there, catching up to what she'd already seen. -He'd been listening to her for twenty minutes, something not adding up in the way she was telling it — then suddenly, it all clicked into place. The gap wasn't an accident. She was telling him two different stories and hoping he wouldn't notice. He saw the whole shape of it. +He'd been listening to her for twenty minutes, something not adding up in the way she was telling it — then the gap showed itself. She was telling him two different stories at once, hoping he wouldn't notice. He saw the whole shape of it. -She'd been reading the old letter without understanding what her father meant — then suddenly, it all made sense. He hadn't been warning her. He'd been telling her he was leaving. Twenty years later, in her kitchen, it finally landed. +She'd been reading the old letter without understanding what her father meant — then the meaning unfolded. He hadn't been warning her; he'd been telling her he was leaving. Twenty years later, in her kitchen, the piece that had been missing was finally there. diff --git a/training/amygdala_stories/direct/anticipatory_grief.txt b/training/amygdala_stories/direct/anticipatory_grief.txt index b862dc8..64c0f2b 100644 --- a/training/amygdala_stories/direct/anticipatory_grief.txt +++ b/training/amygdala_stories/direct/anticipatory_grief.txt @@ -1,5 +1,5 @@ -She'd been watching her grandmother knead dough, knowing this was one of the last times — it was anticipatory grief. The loss hadn't come yet but she was already inside it. Every detail had become precious by being finite. +She'd been watching her grandmother knead dough, knowing this was one of the last times. The loss hadn't come yet but she was already inside it. Every detail had become precious by being finite. -She'd been slowing her pace for the dog, who wasn't going to be walking much longer. The afternoon was clear and the dog was sniffing at something by the fence. It was anticipatory grief. Each of these walks had become specific. She memorized the shape of him against the light. +She'd been slowing her pace for the dog, who wasn't going to be walking much longer. The afternoon was clear, the dog sniffing at something by the fence. Each of these walks had become specific. She memorized the shape of him against the light. -He'd been watching his daughter pack her room, boxes labeled in her careful handwriting, and this would be the last summer she lived here. It was anticipatory grief. The loss wasn't real yet. But he was already saying goodbye to the particular shape of her being in this house. +He'd been watching his daughter pack her room, boxes labeled in her careful handwriting — this would be the last summer she lived here. The loss wasn't real yet. But he was already saying goodbye to the particular shape of her being in this house. diff --git a/training/amygdala_stories/direct/calm.txt b/training/amygdala_stories/direct/calm.txt index a423287..6cd7a3e 100644 --- a/training/amygdala_stories/direct/calm.txt +++ b/training/amygdala_stories/direct/calm.txt @@ -1,5 +1,5 @@ -It was a summer day, sitting on the porch; the sky was clear and blue, her work all laid out, coffee to drink, easily and steadily working through the various decisions and responsibilities of the day. She was calm. Her breath was slow, her shoulders down. Nothing was pulling at her. +It was a summer day, sitting on the porch; the sky was clear and blue, her work all laid out, coffee to drink, easily and steadily working through the various decisions and responsibilities of the day. Her breath was slow, her shoulders down. Nothing was pulling at her. -He'd been working on the report for three days straight and the last sentence had just gone in. He filed the papers away, poured a slow coffee, sat by the window. He was calm. His mind had stopped reaching. Nothing was left to do. +He'd been working on the report for three days straight; the last sentence had just gone in. He filed the papers away, poured a slow coffee, sat by the window. His mind had stopped reaching. Nothing was left to do. -It was early, before the day needed anything from her. She sat with her tea at the kitchen window, watching the light move across the yard. She was calm. Her breath was slow, her shoulders down. The day was far away yet, and she didn't need to hurry toward it. +It was early, before the day needed anything from her. She sat with her tea at the kitchen window, watching the light move across the yard. Her breath slow, shoulders down. The day was far away yet, and she didn't need to hurry toward it. diff --git a/training/amygdala_stories/direct/creative.txt b/training/amygdala_stories/direct/creative.txt index dadc0fc..67bfbc2 100644 --- a/training/amygdala_stories/direct/creative.txt +++ b/training/amygdala_stories/direct/creative.txt @@ -1,5 +1,5 @@ -She'd been sitting with the notebook open, music playing, ideas branching off each other — she was being creative. One thought sparked another, which sparked two more; they just seemed to appear and flow. +She'd been sitting with the notebook open, music playing, ideas branching off each other. One thought sparked another, which sparked two more; they just seemed to appear and flow. -He'd been working on the canvas for hours, one color suggesting the next, a shape on the left asking for an echo on the right. He was being creative. The painting was telling him what it wanted. His hands kept moving ahead of his thinking. +He'd been working on the canvas for hours, one color suggesting the next, a shape on the left asking for an echo on the right. The painting was telling him what it wanted. His hands kept moving ahead of his thinking. -She'd been in the kitchen since noon, pulling things out of the fridge, one ingredient suggesting the next. She was being creative. The dish wasn't planned; it was emerging. She tasted and added and tasted again; it was going somewhere. +She'd been in the kitchen since noon, pulling things out of the fridge, one ingredient suggesting the next. The dish wasn't planned; it was emerging. She tasted and added and tasted again; it was going somewhere. diff --git a/training/amygdala_stories/direct/onto_something.txt b/training/amygdala_stories/direct/onto_something.txt index 158f7db..03a1a72 100644 --- a/training/amygdala_stories/direct/onto_something.txt +++ b/training/amygdala_stories/direct/onto_something.txt @@ -1,5 +1,5 @@ -He'd been working through the symptoms for an hour, steady and methodically making progress, eliminating one possibility after another — he was onto something. The answer wasn't in view yet, but it was close. He kept asking the next question. +He'd been working through the symptoms for an hour, steady and methodically making progress, eliminating one possibility after another. The answer wasn't in view yet, but it was close. He kept asking the next question. -She'd been going through the witness statements, steady and methodically, looking for the inconsistency — she was onto something. The four of them all described the same drive in slightly different orders. One of them had gotten the sequence wrong. She didn't know yet which one, but she was going to. +She'd been going through the witness statements, steady and methodically, looking for the inconsistency. The four of them all described the same drive in slightly different orders. One had gotten the sequence wrong. She didn't know yet which one, but she was going to. -He'd been piecing together his brother's behavior over months — the missed calls, the abrupt move, the strange money — steady and methodically. He was onto something. The picture wasn't complete, but the shape of it was forming. He kept following the thread. +He'd been piecing together his brother's behavior over months — the missed calls, the abrupt move, the strange money — steady and methodically. The picture wasn't complete, but the shape of it was forming. He kept following the thread. diff --git a/training/amygdala_stories/direct/resigned.txt b/training/amygdala_stories/direct/resigned.txt index ce5845f..1b27371 100644 --- a/training/amygdala_stories/direct/resigned.txt +++ b/training/amygdala_stories/direct/resigned.txt @@ -1,5 +1,5 @@ -He'd been turning the bad news over for weeks, looking for an angle that didn't exist — then he stopped. He was resigned. The path was closed. He would live inside the new shape of things. +He'd been turning the bad news over for weeks, looking for an angle that didn't exist — then he stopped. The path was closed. He would live inside the new shape of things. -She'd been watching the relationship come apart slowly for months, trying not to see it — then, sitting across from him at breakfast, she stopped trying. She was resigned. They were not going to make it. She would let him speak the words when he was ready. She would live with knowing. +She'd been watching the relationship come apart slowly for months, trying not to see it — then, sitting across from him at breakfast, she stopped trying. They were not going to make it. She would let him speak the words when he was ready. She would live with knowing. -He'd been getting second opinions, third opinions, for weeks — then the most recent scan came back the same as the others. He was resigned. The disease was not going to stop. He would plan the year around it instead of fighting it. +He'd been getting second opinions, third opinions, for weeks — then the most recent scan came back the same as the others. The disease was not going to stop. He would plan the year around it instead of fighting it. diff --git a/training/amygdala_stories/direct/terrified.txt b/training/amygdala_stories/direct/terrified.txt index 9cb2a93..936d3f8 100644 --- a/training/amygdala_stories/direct/terrified.txt +++ b/training/amygdala_stories/direct/terrified.txt @@ -1,5 +1,5 @@ -She'd been walking home through the familiar streets, half-thinking about dinner — then suddenly, she was terrified. The dark shadows — there was something in them, and a growl. Her body locked down before her mind caught up. She couldn't move. +She'd been walking home through the familiar streets, half-thinking about dinner — then the dark shadows. Something was in them, and a growl. Her body locked down before her mind caught up. She couldn't move. -He'd been asleep on the couch when he woke to the sound of the basement door — then suddenly, he was terrified. It was two in the morning. He wasn't supposed to be alone. The house had gone too quiet. His body locked down under the blanket. +He'd been asleep on the couch when he woke to the sound of the basement door. Two in the morning. He wasn't supposed to be alone. The house had gone too quiet. His body pressed flat under the blanket; he couldn't breathe right. -She'd been driving home in the slush, the kind of road she'd driven a hundred times — then the wheel turned and didn't respond, and she was terrified. The headlights coming the other way filled the windshield. Her hands wouldn't do anything useful. +She'd been driving home in the slush, the kind of road she'd driven a hundred times — then the wheel turned and didn't respond. The headlights coming the other way filled the windshield. Her hands wouldn't do anything useful.