Expandables - Popout Style
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    It was a question of which of the two she preferred. On the one hand, the choice seemed simple. The more expensive one with a brand name would be the choice of most. It was the easy choice. The safe choice. But she wasn't sure she actually preferred it.
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    Eating raw fish didn't sound like a good idea. It's a delicacy in Japan, didn't seem to make it any more appetizing. Raw fish is raw fish, delicacy or not. she'll prove she can again. We all already know this and you will too. she'll prove she can again. We all already know this and you will too.
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    Cake or pie? I can tell a lot about you by which one you pick. It may seem silly, but cake people and pie people are really different. I know which one I hope you are, but that's not for me to decide. So, what is it? Cake or pie? she'll prove she can again. We all already know this and you will too.
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    There wasn't a bird in the sky, but that was not what caught her attention. It was the clouds. The deep green that isn't the color of clouds, but came with these. She knew what was coming and she hoped she was prepared. she'll prove she can again. We all already know this and you will too.
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    He heard the crack echo in the late afternoon about a mile away. His heart started racing and he bolted into a full sprint. It wasn't a gunshot, it wasn't a gunshot, he repeated under his breathlessness as he continued to sprint. she'll prove she can again. We all already know this and you will too.
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    If you can imagine a furry humanoid seven feet tall, with the face of an intelligent gorilla and the braincase of a man, you'll have a rough idea of what they looked like -- except for their teeth. The canines would have fitted better in the face of a tiger, and showed at the corners of their wide, thin-lipped mouths, giving them an expression of ferocity.
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    Indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with a vague anguish. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul's summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood. She did not sit there inwardly upbraiding her husband, lamenting at Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself. The mosquitoes made merry over her, biting her firm, round arms and nipping at her bare insteps.
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    The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid. ,Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of hepatic cirrhosis, it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.
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    Here's the thing. She doesn't have anything to prove, but she is going to anyway. That's just her character. She knows she doesn't have to, but she still will just to show you that she can. Doubt her more and she'll prove she can again. We all already know this and you will too.