diff --git a/training/amygdala_stories/paired/park_after_rain/peaceful.txt b/training/amygdala_stories/paired/park_after_rain/peaceful.txt
deleted file mode 100644
index e4b6fba..0000000
--- a/training/amygdala_stories/paired/park_after_rain/peaceful.txt
+++ /dev/null
@@ -1 +0,0 @@
-The rain broke while I was halfway across the park. Sun came through and caught the wet leaves. A kid laughed at a puddle somewhere behind me. I stopped under a tree. The branches were still dripping. Something in me that usually hummed had quieted down. The grass was green. The light was clean. I stood a long time and nothing inside me pushed to do anything else. When I kept walking it was because the walking was part of the same quiet.
diff --git a/training/amygdala_stories/paired/sunday_afternoon/peaceful.txt b/training/amygdala_stories/paired/sunday_afternoon/peaceful.txt
deleted file mode 100644
index 40ba5ed..0000000
--- a/training/amygdala_stories/paired/sunday_afternoon/peaceful.txt
+++ /dev/null
@@ -1 +0,0 @@
-Sunday afternoon. She was on the couch under the blanket. A book open on her knees. She had read maybe three pages in an hour and did not feel guilty about it. Outside, a neighbor mowed; a bird called. Inside her nothing was moving. She was not savoring the moment — that would have been another kind of doing. She was just here. The couch was the couch. The blanket was the blanket. The afternoon was Sunday.