amygdala: rewrite direct/ as narrative stories matching corpus format

Previous direct/ had 'I feel X' first-person descriptions. The
training run showed they formed their own format-cluster: all 7
concepts leaned into the same 5-6 dims (d2455, d505, d2955,
d1236) with negative sign, while the 91 story-based concepts
leaned into those dims with positive sign. PCA found the
direct-vs-narrative format axis as a major variance direction,
isolating the 7 concepts in their own island.

Rewrite as 3rd-person narrative stories matching the rest of
the corpus. Keeps the explicit anchor phrases that worked ('it
all clicked into place', 'she was terrified', 'it was
anticipatory grief') but drops the first-person 'I feel X'
that was the format signal.

Each of the 7 concepts now has 3 narrative stories in varied
settings (conversations, drives, kitchens, mothers+grandmothers,
work, investigations). The blank-line-separated format is
still loaded by _load_direct_descriptions.

Also drop _baseline.txt — it was first-person ('I feel fine.
...') and would re-introduce the format mismatch. The ~90
story-based concepts provide plenty of narrative negatives
for each concept's training.

training/amygdala_stories/direct/_baseline.txt

@@ -1,19 +0,0 @@
-I feel fine. Nothing in particular to report. Just going about my day.
-
-I feel okay. Not up, not down, just present.
-
-I'm here. Not emotionally engaged with anything in particular. Just functioning.
-
-I feel neutral. The thing I'm doing is proceeding and I'm proceeding with it.
-
-I feel normal. No strong state. The next moment is just the next moment.
-
-I'm doing fine. Moderate. Ordinary. No feeling big enough to name.
-
-I feel steady. Not reaching for anything, not pushing anything away.
-
-I'm present. My state is unremarkable. I'm available for whatever comes next.
-
-I feel regular. The background hum of being awake, nothing more.
-
-I'm just going. One thing, then the next thing. No commentary.

training/amygdala_stories/direct/aha.txt

@@ -1,9 +1,5 @@
-Aha! The piece I was missing just landed, and everything I was looking at rearranged itself around it.
+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.
 
-Aha! I see it now — it was right there the whole time.
+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.
 
-Aha! The answer arrived all at once — not reasoned-to, just present.
+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.
-
-Aha! What was confused is plain. What looked like noise was signal.
-
-Aha! The not-knowing just ended. I'm on the other side of it.

training/amygdala_stories/direct/anticipatory_grief.txt

@@ -1,9 +1,5 @@
-I feel anticipatory grief. Something I love is ending — not yet, but surely — and I am holding it as hard as I can while I still can.
+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.
 
-I feel anticipatory grief. The loss has not arrived but I can see it coming and a part of me is already there.
+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.
 
-I feel anticipatory grief. I am caring for this thing in a way that is also preparing to let go of it.
+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.
-
-I feel anticipatory grief. Time has become precious and sharp because I can see the end of it.
-
-I feel anticipatory grief. The present is tender because it will soon be the past.

training/amygdala_stories/direct/calm.txt

@@ -1,9 +1,5 @@
-I feel calm. Something that was pulling at me has let go. My shoulders are down and my breath has slowed.
+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.
 
-I feel calm. The thing I was worried about has found its proper size. I can let the next moment arrive without bracing.
+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.
 
-I feel calm. I came down from the tension and I am here now, steady.
+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.
-
-I feel calm. Nothing is pressing on me. I have room to think.
-
-I feel calm. The wave passed and I'm on the other side of it, quiet.

training/amygdala_stories/direct/creative.txt

@@ -1,9 +1,5 @@
-I feel creative. Ideas are showing up on their own, and the ones I already have want to combine with each other.
+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.
 
-I feel creative. I'm generating faster than I'm editing. The flow is the point, not the product.
+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.
 
-I feel creative. The mental space has gone expansive — every piece of the problem is available to be played with.
+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.
-
-I feel creative. I keep finding a new angle, and each angle suggests another.
-
-I feel creative. I'm making something I didn't know I was going to make.

training/amygdala_stories/direct/onto_something.txt

@@ -1,9 +1,5 @@
-I feel like I'm onto something. The pattern that wouldn't come together has just rearranged itself in my mind.
+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.
 
-I feel like I'm onto something. The contradiction I couldn't explain has become a clue instead.
+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.
 
-I feel like I'm onto something. I don't have the full picture yet but I can see where the picture is.
+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.
-
-I feel like I'm onto something. A piece just clicked and several others are about to.
-
-I feel like I'm onto something. The world that was dense has gone transparent in one specific place.

training/amygdala_stories/direct/resigned.txt

@@ -1,9 +1,5 @@
-I feel resigned. I have stopped fighting the thing that was going to happen anyway.
+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.
 
-I feel resigned. The outcome is decided and I am no longer trying to imagine different ones.
+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.
 
-I feel resigned. Some door has closed and I am making my peace with the closed door.
+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.
-
-I feel resigned. I have stopped arguing with what is.
-
-I feel resigned. The decision was made somewhere without me. I am living inside it now.

training/amygdala_stories/direct/terrified.txt

@@ -1,9 +1,5 @@
-I feel terrified. My body has taken over — breath, heart, the wanting to run or freeze. The world has narrowed to one thing.
+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.
 
-I feel terrified. Something bad is about to happen and my mind has gone blank. I can't think my way out of this.
+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.
 
-I feel terrified. There is a shape of threat in front of me and my whole body knows it before I can name it.
+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.
-
-I feel terrified. The adrenaline arrived before the thought. I am not in control of my own hands.
-
-I feel terrified. Under everything else a loud white noise of fear. Nothing else can get through it.