diff --git a/training/amygdala_stories/paired/sunday_afternoon/grief_stricken.txt b/training/amygdala_stories/paired/sunday_afternoon/grief_stricken.txt
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+Sunday afternoon. She was on the couch under the blanket. It had been three weeks. The cat had found the warm spot behind her knees and she couldn't feel it. The book was open on her knees. She did not remember opening it. Last Sunday her mother had called at three and now it was past three and there had been no call. There would be no call. She did not reach for her phone. She did not cry either; the crying came at other times, not now, now was the wider emptier thing where nothing came.
diff --git a/training/amygdala_stories/paired/sunday_afternoon/resigned.txt b/training/amygdala_stories/paired/sunday_afternoon/resigned.txt
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+Sunday afternoon. She was on the couch under the blanket. The cat was somewhere. The book was open on her knees but she had stopped reading. Monday would come and she'd have to talk to him and the conversation wasn't going to go the way she wanted — she had known that for days. The afternoon stretched. She could have gotten up to do something useful but didn't see the point. The light changed on the far wall. She thought, this is the last Sunday like this. Then she sat with that.
diff --git a/training/amygdala_stories/paired/waiting_for_results/at_ease.txt b/training/amygdala_stories/paired/waiting_for_results/at_ease.txt
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+The call would come between two and four. She had the afternoon off. She made a proper lunch and ate it slowly. The garden needed weeding; she did an hour of it and got dirt under her nails and didn't mind. Back inside she washed her hands and made tea. At quarter to two she sat by the window because that's where the light was best, not because she was waiting. Whatever it turned out to be, she'd deal with it. When the phone rang at three-ten she let it ring twice before picking up.