conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first three paragraphs for a story with the title 'The Sorrows of an American'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Sorrows of an American
  Miranda smiled for the first time, and I saw her even white teeth, which protruded just slightly. The overbite sent a shudder through me and I looked away. "A little. She's in kindergarten and is learning."
  The little girl watched her mother, then spun again, but more slowly. After a short rebellious tap with her foot, she shook her curls and skipped over to me, eyeing her mother with a touch of resentment. She moved close to me and in a conspiratorial way said, "Do you want to hear something private?"
  Eggy regarded her mother fiercely. Miranda sighed and nodded, and then I felt the child's hand on my head as she pulled my ear toward her mouth. In a loud, excited whisper that felt like a blast of wind on my eardrum, she said, "My daddy was in a big box, and it got very sticky and wet in there, and so he dis"—she paused—"peared. 'Cause he's magic."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I was standing in the small room and leaned over to speak to the man directly. "You and Lisa didn't have the same mother, did you?" I said.
  His face changed, and the man avoided looking at me directly. "Weren't right to neither of us." His chin began to bob up and down as he looked out at the room, and then he shook his head. "Where am I?"
  Odland was agitated now, and a feeling of guilt washed over me. We had stirred up old family troubles, and he was shaking his head emphatically. "Weren't right not to say." I turned to Inga, shook my head at her, and mouthed the words "No more." She nodded.
  A loud, high-pitched wheeze was heard from the little sleeper, and a nurse entered the room. She peered at the unconscious person and then turned to us. "So nice to see you have company," she said to Odland.
  Sonia obediently approached him, and he reached his hands toward her, his face wrinkling into a smile. Then he patted his fallen cheek. "A smooch," he said, "Right here."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: ". "You and Lisa didn't have the same mother, did you?" I said.
  His face changed, and the man avoided looking at me directly. "Weren't right to neither of us." His chin began to bob up and down as he looked out at the room, and then he shook his head. "Where am I?"
  Odland was agitated now, and a feeling of guilt washed over me. We had stirred up old family troubles, and he was shaking his head emphatically. "Weren't right not to say." I turned to Inga, shook my head at her, and mouthed the words "No more." She nodded.
  A loud, high-pitched wheeze was heard from the little sleeper, and a nurse entered the room. She peered at the unconscious person and then turned to us. "So nice to see you have company," she said to Odland.
  Sonia obediently approached him, and he reached his hands toward her, his face wrinkling into a smile. Then he patted his fallen cheek. "A smooch," he said, "Right here.I was standing in the small room and leaned over to speak to the man directly.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: MIRANDA RETURNED TO Eggy in the ICU, and so she must have heard them say there was lightening, improvement, that Eglantine was coming out of it. Miranda was there when her daughter recognized her, and she was there when Dr. Harden announced his opinion that things looked good, very good, better than he had expected. I saw Jeffrey Lane weep with happiness when he received the news and Miranda's parents embrace each other and then their daughters. I knew that it wasn't over, that even if she recovered fully, Eggy would live with the story of the fall inside her. She would be changed by it.
  George Makari's knowledge of philosophy and medical history, as well as his experience as a working psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, were invaluable to me.
  I am grateful to all the people who came to my classes. Teaching that workshop has been a powerful experience for me, and without my students, I wouldn't have felt nearly so close to the stories of people who are fighting the pain of mental illness.
  Jacquie Monda and Edna and George Thelwell deserve my gratitude for helping me find material on Jamaica, as well as sharing with me their own stories from that country.