conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Walla, em>New, York with the genre: Teen & Young Adult, Literature & Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Thirteen Days to Midnight'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the first five paragraphs for this book?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Thirteen Days to Midnight
  I saw Oh out of the corner of my eye as she crept quietly closer to me. She spoke in a slow half-whisper.
  I knew what she meant of course, but the words and the look connected in my brain in a wholly inappropriate way, and I blushed like a seven-year-old who'd peed his pants on the playground.
  The pitching machine kept on pitching and she kissed me on the cheek, smiling as her lips pressed against my skin.
  She was gorgeous and fearless and I was in awe. She pulled her hair into a ponytail as the machine spit three more fastballs and Milo stepped out of her path.
  Before he could turn around, the sound of the pitching machine came again. Except this time, instead of ending with the clang of the backstop, we heard a sickening thump.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is four more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: And then there was the depressing dilemma of wondering who, specifically, could be saved in a really big, catastrophic event in a place where I didn't know anyone. A hurricane is coming and it's probably going to kill some people. Who would I choose to protect? No clue. There's a war on, bodies piling up, which side would I choose? And then once I've chosen a side, which one person would I give the power to?
  I wouldn't be able to handle that kind of decision unless someone flat-out told me who to save. And then what would I be? Someone else's tool for someone else's life-or-death judgment.
  Oh and I argued over this kind of thing for days. She was always arguing for more, more, more, and I was always asking her to slow things down. It became a sticking point for us, her mood growing darker at times. We were turning into that couple no one wants to be around, always fighting, and Milo chose to spend less time with us when we were together.
  On Tuesday Oh heard about a meth lab bust on the scanner at an old barn and knew there was a chance of an explosion. Apparently that stuff is very unstable. She'd gone to some trouble rounding up photos of most of the local police officers by the time I got to her, and when the call was radioed in, Sergeant Flowers was the first to arrive. There were other officers there as well, but protecting Flowers was the best I could do.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the last five paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I stared off into the sunset and leaned my head against Oh's, running my fingers along the edge of the pink diamond on her arm.
  A hundred years from now I'm sure I'll feel differently, when Oh and Milo are gone and I'm left to march into Mr. Fielding's arms alone. I can already see myself in the distant future, standing behind the counter at Sir Walter Raleigh's, sending smoke signals out into the world in search of a conversation.
  My long journey hadn't turned lonely yet, but I had the feeling, there on the beach, that the best time would fly by almost unnoticed. Like the one or five or ten minutes parked on the side of the road on the way to the Enchanted Forest, all good time would pass me by.
  I still ask people that question all the time, and I get the same kind of answers I've always gotten. Flying. Reading minds. Walking through walls.
  I've finally settled on the one I want, and it sure isn't the one I got. It's simple, really, something everyone else has that I don't. I can walk into a burning building, dive off a bridge, get hit by a bus, or drive a car into a tree doing ninety. I'd give it all up in a heartbeat for the one thing I can't have.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I'd give it all up in a heartbeat for the one thing I can't have.. I can walk into a burning building, dive off a bridge, get hit by a bus, or drive a car into a tree doing ninety. It's simple, really, something everyone else has that I don't.
  I've finally settled on the one I want, and it sure isn't the one I got. Walking through walls. Reading minds. Flying.
  I still ask people that question all the time, and I get the same kind of answers I've always gotten. Like the one or five or ten minutes parked on the side of the road on the way to the Enchanted Forest, all good time would pass me by.
  My long journey hadn't turned lonely yet, but I had the feeling, there on the beach, that the best time would fly by almost unnoticed. I can already see myself in the distant future, standing behind the counter at Sir Walter Raleigh's, sending smoke signals out into the world in search of a conversation. Fielding's arms alone.
  A hundred years from now I'm sure I'll feel differently, when Oh and Milo are gone and I'm left to march into Mr.I stared off into the sunset and leaned my head against Oh's, running my fingers along the edge of the pink diamond on her arm