conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Margie, Peters, Missouri with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Mystery?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Stranglehold'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled Stranglehold about Robertthe, Torontos, City with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Mystery.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author is one of Torontos top criminal lawyers and the author of several bestselling novels, including Old City Hall , The Guilty Plea, Stray Bullets, and Stranglehold. He lives in Toronto. Visit him at Robertthe author.com or follow him @Robertthe author.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author is one of Torontos top criminal lawyers and the author of several bestselling novels, including Old City Hall , The Guilty Plea, Stray Bullets, and Stranglehold. He lives in Toronto. Visit him at Robertthe author.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first four paragraphs for the book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Stranglehold
  The man was amazing. The supercilious little shit. It was clear he'd enjoyed his little speech. She wanted very much to walk out of the room and never have to lay eyes on him again.
  For a while after seeing the proctologist they drove in silence, she not knowing what to say, Robert seeming lost in thought.
  Dr. Hessler appeared to be a kind man and certainly he was good with Robert, reassuring him right off the bat that nothing he was going to do would hurt him, then changing the subject immediately to whether or not they'd seen Jungle Book II yet of all things.
  They hadn't seen it. As a matter of fact they'd tried twice already but had been turned away at packed houses. But the doctor had chosen wisely. Since the movie opened it was all the kids talked about. Robert listened, rapt, as the doctor described several scenes in detail—with surprisingly boyish enthusiasm for a man who had to be in his sixties—ushering him into his examining room and closing the door behind them.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me four more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The air felt even warmer to her now. She was sweating. She felt empty inside, as though being with Robert had calmed her but somehow at the same time had blocked off all emotions but the simple feeling of being alive and in his presence.
  She was trying not to cry and she could see that so was he. She could feel the tension running through him electric with fear and uncertainty.
  It was as though she'd slapped him. He flung himself back against the car door, he was halfway up on his knees. He looked like something trapped there.
  She slid over on the seat and reached for him, put her arms around him and held him, rocked him, both of them letting the tears come freely, her breast wet and warm with them, the musky scent of tears filling the car until finally after a good long while they subsided.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She was sweating. She felt empty inside, as though being with Robert had calmed her but somehow at the same time had blocked off all emotions but the simple feeling of being alive and in his presence.
  She was trying not to cry and she could see that so was he. She could feel the tension running through him electric with fear and uncertainty.
  It was as though she'd slapped him. He flung himself back against the car door, he was halfway up on his knees. He looked like something trapped there.
  She slid over on the seat and reached for him, put her arms around him and held him, rocked him, both of them letting the tears come freely, her breast wet and warm with them, the musky scent of tears filling the car until finally after a good long while they subsided.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The only problem she had with Robert was—and it didn't happen nearly so often now, but god knows at her age once a month was still quite enough to frazzle her—the only problem she had was this messing the bed at night. She'd wake up in the morning or even in the middle of the night sometimes to a smell like something had crawled up into her house and died. And there would be the boy, sleeping in his own shit or else stripping the sheets off the bed or else just sitting there looking sad and guilty.
  She made him wash his sheets when it happened and kept plastic on to protect the mattress underneath at all times. But she wasn't buying any diapers for him. She wasn't spending money on diapers for a nine-year-old.
  Of course there was always what had worked with Arthur what helped to put him back in line when he was out of line—on those rare occasions. But the world was different now than it was when Arthur was a boy and people were a lot more nosy. Teachers were nosy and they had counselors at school who were nosy and even other parents got nosy a whole lot of the time. She'd heard stories. People who had their kids taken away from them by the goddamn county. She'd have to be careful.
  And then afterwards in the darkness of his bedroom she'd go to him and hold him close to her breast and feel his sweet warm tears soak through her housedress and she'd rock him and tell him that it was all right now, it was over, that he was her boy, her good boy, her one and only child and the love of her life, forever, never mind old Harry, never mind anybody because nobody else in the world mattered the way he mattered—they belonged to one another forever there in the sight of God and she would stroke him, stroke him, stroke him.