conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Martin, Crime, Reed with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Martin Misunderstood'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first four paragraphs for this book.. Start with the sentence 'Martin Misunderstood
  He nodded, gripping his hands together under the table'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Martin Misunderstood
  He nodded, gripping his hands together under the table. They were all on his mother's side here. She'd fooled them completely.
  She waved this off with a perfectly manicured hand. 'All mothers do that. Kids grow so fast you can't keep up with them.'
  The guard paced back and forth behind Martin, apparently feeling the need to protect Evelyn. Martin kept his mouth shut. He had nothing more to say on the subject. There was no use arguing, because she would only point out that it wasn't her fault that Martin didn't grow. The too-big shoes, the baggy pants, the loose underwear that facilitated wedgies – these would all somehow be turned around on Martin and it would suddenly be his own damn' fault.
  Martin sighed. The guard had come back. He waited for the man to turn again and head in the other direction. 'Tell me how you did it,' he murmured. 'I saw you in bed when I got home from the massage parlor.'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me four more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: An nodded, flipping through her file folders again. He saw a photo of a decapitated woman in a trench and quickly looked away. (The crimescene photos were still the worst part of his confessions.)
  An's voice was soft, lilting. 'No one can ever know about us, Martin. It'll almost be like you're a figment of my imagination.' Her face had colored again, a beautiful shade of red that made the winter-time eczema around her nostrils almost disappear. An asked, 'Do you know what I'm saying, Martin? Do you understand what I mean?'
  Abigail Campano sat in her car parked on the street outside her own house. She was looking up at the mansion they had remodeled almost ten years ago. The house was huge – too much space for three people, especially since one of them, God willing, would be going off to college in less than a year. What would she do with herself once her daughter was busy starting a new life of her own? It would be Abigail and Paul again, just like before Emma was born.
  Paul's voice crackled through the car speakers as he came back on the telephone. 'Babe, listen—' he began, but her mind was already wandering as she stared up at the house. When had her life gotten so small? When had the most pressing questions of her day turned into concerns about other people, other things: Were Paul's shirts ready at the tailor? Did Emma have volleyball practice tonight? Did the decorator order the new desk for the office? Did somebody remember to let out the dog or was she going to spend the next twenty minutes wiping up two gallons of pee off the kitchen floor?
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: When had her life gotten so small? When had the most pressing questions of her day turned into concerns about other people, other things: Were Paul's shirts ready at the tailor? Did Emma have volleyball practice tonight? Did the decorator order the new desk for the office? Did somebody remember to let out the dog or was she going to spend the next twenty minutes wiping up two gallons of pee off the kitchen floor? 'Babe, listen—' he began, but her mind was already wandering as she stared up at the house.
  Paul's voice crackled through the car speakers as he came back on the telephone. What would she do with herself once her daughter was busy starting a new life of her own? It would be Abigail and Paul again, just like before Emma was born. The house was huge – too much space for three people, especially since one of them, God willing, would be going off to college in less than a year. She was looking up at the mansion they had remodeled almost ten years ago. An asked, 'Do you know what I'm saying, Martin? Do you understand what I mean?'
  Abigail Campano sat in her car parked on the street outside her own house.' Her face had colored again, a beautiful shade of red that made the winter-time eczema around her nostrils almost disappear. It'll almost be like you're a figment of my imagination. 'No one can ever know about us, Martin.)
  An's voice was soft, lilting. (The crimescene photos were still the worst part of his confessions. He saw a photo of a decapitated woman in a trench and quickly looked away.An nodded, flipping through her file folders again
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last two paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Emma lying upstairs. Dead. Blood pooled around her. Underwear yanked down. Her poor baby. What had she gone through? What humiliation had she suffered at the hands of this man?
  Abigail felt a sudden warmness between her legs. The man had urinated on them both. He stared at her – really saw her – then his eyes glassed over. His arms fell to the side, hands popping against the glass-strewn tile. His body went limp, mouth gaping open.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Emma lying upstairs. Dead. Blood pooled around her. Underwear yanked down. Her poor baby. What had she gone through? What humiliation had she suffered at the hands of this man?
  Abigail felt a sudden warmness between her legs. The man had urinated on them both. He stared at her – really saw her – then his eyes glassed over. His arms fell to the side, hands popping against the glass-strewn tile.