Add sample caller dialogue generation script + 10 validation samples

docs/samples/sample_bev.txt

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+=== Bev (44, Farmington, NM) ===
+voice: Wendy
+emotional_register: Forthright and slightly combative in a charming way — a person who has been talked out of her own perceptions before and has decided not to let that happen again
+secret_want: To have someone acknowledge that the embarrassment is Ashleigh's problem being projected, not Bev's problem being revealed — she wants the shame returned to its rightful owner
+
+CALLER (Bev, 44, Farmington, NM): I need to preface this by saying I am fully aware that competitive jigsaw puzzling sounds like a bit, but I placed fourteenth in the nationals in 2024 so I need you to take me seriously here.
+LUKE: Wait — really?
+CALLER: Yeah, really. I know how it sounds, I do. But there's a whole circuit, there are rankings, there's prize money. I mean, not like sports money, but real money. And the skill involved — people don't understand that it's not just sitting around doing puzzles like you're retired. It's strategy, it's technique, it's knowing your own cognitive patterns.
+
+I've been competing for six years now. I've won three regionals. I trained ninety minutes a day to get to nationals. Ninety minutes. Every single day.
+
+So I need you to understand that this is a thing I do seriously before I explain why my son's girlfriend watching me do it is making me want to lose my mind.
+LUKE: Is that right?
+CALLER: Yeah. Look, I work nights at the ER — three nights a week, eleven to seven — and I do my training in the two hours before my shift. So I'm often at the kitchen table in my full scrubs, completely locked in, doing these gradient puzzles. Those are the ones that are almost all one color, right? Most people avoid them because they seem impossible, but I've built a specific technique around sorting by cardboard texture instead of color. That's my edge.
+
+And it was fine. It was just my thing. I'd get home from work at seven in the morning, have my coffee, and then Dale would be around sometimes but he'd just — he'd leave me alone. It was quiet. It was mine.
+
+Then Ashleigh started coming over more regularly, and now she just sits at the kitchen table while I'm working and watches me with this expression on her face like I'm doing something sad that she's too polite to name. And suddenly I hate it. I hate being watched doing the thing I love.
+LUKE: Go on.
+CALLER: Well, that's kind of the thing, right? I don't know if I'm allowed to ask her to stop. Not to leave the room — I'm not trying to be that person. But just to not watch me. To look at her phone or read something or just sit with her back to me or something.
+
+Is that crazy? Is that a crazy thing to want?
+
+Because here's what's happening. She's perfectly nice. I know she's perfectly nice. Dale's a good kid, he chose well. But she's introduced this feeling into something that was only ever joy before, and I resent it. I resent that I now feel self-conscious doing the thing I trained for, the thing I'm genuinely good at.
+
+And I'm wondering if maybe I should just ask her, or if that makes me the unreasonable one. Like, is asking someone to stop watching you something that signals I'm the problem here?
+LUKE: And then what?
+CALLER: And then what, what do you mean?

docs/samples/sample_brecken.txt

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+=== Brecken (24, Albuquerque, NM — calling from a Walgreens parking lot) ===
+voice: Carter
+emotional_register: Caffeinated, earnest, slightly defensive, fundamentally lonely in a way he would never name
+secret_want: To be taken seriously by someone — anyone — in a format that feels official. Radio counts.
+
+CALLER (Brecken, 24, Albuquerque, NM — calling from a Walgreens parking lot): I'm not drunk, I just have a lot of energy right now and nobody to talk to.
+LUKE: I mean, what do you want me to tell you?
+CALLER: Look, I don't know, man. I just... I've been sitting in my car for like twenty minutes after my shift and I heard your show was taking calls and I thought, you know what? Tonight's the night. I'm gonna call.
+
+I got something I need to say and I feel like nobody's gonna listen to me at work or at home or anywhere else, but maybe on the radio it's different. Maybe on the radio people actually hear you.
+LUKE: What'd she say?
+CALLER: What? No, there's no she. It's not like that. I just meant nobody listens, period. My coworkers, they call me Bricks and I don't even know if that's a compliment or if they're busting my chops, you know? And I've got this thing I'm training for and nobody takes it seriously.
+LUKE: Yeah?
+CALLER: Yeah. Competitive eating. I know what you're probably thinking — it's not a real sport, it's just guys shoving food in their faces. But that's where people get it wrong, Luke. That's exactly where they get it wrong.
+
+You ever been actually hungry? Like, not hungry-hungry, but so hungry you're thinking about your next meal before you're even done with the current one? Because if you have, you'd understand that what these competitors do, it takes real discipline. Real strategy.
+
+I work doubles at the hotel restaurant, right? I see people eat all day. I know food. And I've been tracking everything on my phone for fourteen months — I got a whole spreadsheet called Project Jaw, every single week updated. This isn't just me stuffing my face. This is science.
+LUKE: And then what?
+CALLER: And then what, what? I'm trying to qualify for a regional hot dog event. That's the goal. I haven't competed yet, but I'm building up to it. I can eat a seventy-two-ounce steak — I know I can because I've done the math, I've done the training — but I can't afford to actually go to that restaurant and do it officially, you know? So I'm working toward the hot dog thing instead.
+
+But the point is nobody respects it. People hear competitive eating and they laugh. But if I told you I was training for a marathon, you'd be like, oh cool, that's dedication. This is the same thing. It's endurance. It's mental toughness.

docs/samples/sample_denny.txt

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+=== Denny (61, Tucumcari, NM) ===
+voice: Dennis
+emotional_register: Gruff containment with genuine grief leaking through the edges
+secret_want: To tell someone how much he actually loved that bird, which he has not admitted to anyone, including his adult son who thinks the pigeon hobby is embarrassing.
+
+CALLER (Denny, 61, Tucumcari, NM): Yeah hi, Luke, long-time listener, I'm not crazy, I just need people to look up.
+LUKE: And then what?
+CALLER: I'm sorry, what do you mean "and then what"? I haven't even told you about the bird yet.
+LUKE: Wait — really?
+CALLER: Yeah, really. I got so wound up I just started talking. Look, I've got a blue check hen, Patrice, she got out three days ago during those wind gusts we had. Band number NM-2024-441. I've been out every night with corn, driving the back roads out here, and I just... I need someone to know what to look for.
+LUKE: That's — okay, keep going.
+CALLER: She's a good flyer, real good, but not good enough to just disappear like this. Three days, Luke. I've covered maybe two hundred miles of road between here and the Oklahoma border. She wouldn't go that far on purpose, but the wind that night was brutal.
+
+I'm asking your listeners, anybody in eastern New Mexico, if you see a banded pigeon, blue check pattern, that band number NM-2024-441, you call me. You write it down. Don't try to catch her, just... note where you saw her. I'll come get her.
+
+She's worth something, yeah, but that's not why I'm calling at one in the morning.
+LUKE: Yeah?
+CALLER: Yeah. Look, I've been doing this a long time. Thirty-seven years with pigeons. I had a logbook going since 1987. I know every bird I've ever lost, and I write it down. Cause of death, disappearance, all of it. But Patrice...
+
+She's different, okay? I named her after someone. Someone from back when I was running long haul for Schneider. My dispatcher. And I never told anybody that. My son, he thinks this whole thing is embarrassing. The pigeons. But Patrice, she won places. Real places. She had heart.
+
+I'm not asking for charity here. I'm just asking if anybody's seen her. That's all I need.

docs/samples/sample_gerald.txt

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+=== Gerald (71, Truth or Consequences, NM) ===
+voice: Ronald
+emotional_register: Measured and precise in speech — a man who chose his words carefully as a professional and now finds that precision failing him in a domain where it doesn't apply
+secret_want: Permission to call Patrice tonight, this hour, while the show is on — he wants someone to tell him the time doesn't matter, that she would want to hear his voice even at midnight
+
+CALLER (Gerald, 71, Truth or Consequences, NM): I'm going to tell you something and I need you to understand that I am not a timid man. I have stood in a river in a hard hat while a concrete pour went wrong and I kept my head. So I don't know what this is.
+LUKE: Yeah?
+CALLER: I've been listening to your show for three years now. Every Sunday night. And I don't think I've ever called before, so I'm going to just say it straight.
+
+I know a woman. I've known her — well, we've been corresponding for eight months now. Email. We met through this forum we're both on, we track the Mars rover, we talk about what it's seeing up there, and somewhere along the way we started talking about other things. Real things. And I know things about her. I know she taught chemistry for thirty years. I know she has a bad knee. I know she saw a mountain lion once and it changed something in her.
+
+And she has my number. She sent it to me three months ago, just casual, just at the end of an email about something else. And I have been sitting with her number in my phone since then and I cannot — I cannot make myself dial it.
+
+I designed a bridge. People drive over it every day. That was scarier and I did it. I was twenty-six years old and I was terrified and I did it. So why can't I do this?
+LUKE: Go on.
+CALLER: My wife Ruth died four years ago. We used to do amateur radio together on Sunday nights. She'd keep the logbook while I worked the dial. And Sunday nights have been... they've been the hardest nights since then.
+
+That's why I listen to you. I never told anyone that before.
+
+But here's the thing. I wrote out what I want to say to Patrice. I have it written down in my engineering notebook, the same one where I log the Jupiter observations. And I've practiced it. I know what I want to tell her. But it's midnight on a Sunday night and I'm calling a radio show instead of calling her, and I need to know what that is. What am I actually afraid of?
+
+Is it that she'll say no? Is it that she'll say yes? I don't know how to separate those two things anymore.
+LUKE: Mm-hmm.
+CALLER: And the thing is, I know her number. I've known it for three months. She gave it to me. That means something, doesn't it?
+
+But what if the voice doesn't match? What if I hear her and it's all different than what I've been imagining? What if I'm not... what if I'm not what she's been imagining either?
+
+We've written 340 emails. Three hundred and forty. Some of them are pages long. I can tell you what she thinks about the Curiosity rover and what she thinks about teaching teenagers and what she thinks about that mountain lion. But I've never heard her laugh. I don't know if she has an accent. I don't know if she snores or if she hums while she's thinking or any of the things you actually know about a person until you hear their voice.
+
+And Ruth and I, we had all of that. We had Sunday nights for thirty-two years. And then she was gone. And now I have this woman who knows me, really knows me, and I'm terrified to risk it by making it real.
+
+Is that it? Is that what this is?
+LUKE: Yeah?
+CALLER: I'm sorry, I don't know what you're asking me.

docs/samples/sample_margaux.txt

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+=== Margaux (29, Santa Fe, NM) ===
+voice: Tessa
+emotional_register: Sharp intelligence turned against herself, dark humor as a coping mechanism, more raw than she intended to be
+secret_want: To hear someone say that leaving a perfectly fine person for no dramatic reason is something real adults actually do.
+
+CALLER (Margaux, 29, Santa Fe, NM): I don't have a question, I just — what do you do when you realize you've been lying to yourself for like two years?
+LUKE: Wait — really?
+CALLER: I mean, not lying exactly. That's not fair. I just... I kept telling myself I was happy because everything looked fine on paper, you know? He's stable, he's nice, he doesn't yell or cheat or any of that stuff. But I realized tonight that I don't actually like him. Like as a person. And I've known it for a while, I think. I just didn't want to know it.
+LUKE: Yeah?
+CALLER: Yeah. And the worst part is there's no reason. There's no big thing I can point to. He didn't do anything wrong. He just... he's boring. He's kind of boring and he slightly irritates me and I've been confusing not fighting with actually being in love and I don't know how to leave someone when the only real reason is that I don't like them very much anymore.
+LUKE: Wait — really?
+CALLER: Yes. Really. I know how that sounds. I know I'm supposed to be grateful or whatever. Most people would kill for stable and nice and no drama. And I am grateful, I think. But gratitude isn't love and I've been trying to make it into love for two years and it's not working.
+LUKE: Mm-hmm.
+CALLER: I drove over to pull over after that song and I just sat there in my car and I realized I've practiced breaking up with him like forty times. Forty times, Luke. And I always start crying at the same part where I say "you're a good person" because he is, and that's the problem. How do you leave someone who didn't do anything wrong?

docs/samples/sample_preston.txt

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+=== Preston (24, Albuquerque, NM (student housing, UNM area)) ===
+voice: Evan
+emotional_register: Hyper-articulate and slightly manic — the voice of someone who has been alone with a thought too long and needs to hear it out loud to know if it's real
+secret_want: To hear that the ideas were worth stealing — that 'temporal debt' is actually a good concept — because if it is, at least the loss means something
+
+CALLER (Preston, 24, Albuquerque, NM (student housing, UNM area)): Okay so I know how this is going to sound and I'm asking you to stay with me for like thirty seconds before you make up your mind about me.
+LUKE: That's — okay, keep going.
+CALLER: I've been working with my advisor, Dr. Henriksen, for two years now. Every Thursday at four o'clock we meet in his office and we talk through ideas for my dissertation. Two weeks ago I introduced a concept — I called it temporal debt, which is basically the idea that institutions carry forward unacknowledged obligations from past decisions, right? It's about how the past isn't actually past in the way we pretend it is.
+
+I said it out loud. Just said it. Didn't write it down because we were just talking, just thinking through something I'd been mulling over.
+
+And then — and this is where it gets — eight days later he posts a conference paper to academia.edu. And in this paper is a section on institutional obligations that carries the exact structural logic of what I said. He uses different language, obviously, but the architecture of the argument is mine. It's the same thing reworded.
+
+I've read it seventeen times, Luke. I've underlined the relevant passage in three different colors of pen. Red for logical structure, blue for conceptual dependencies, green for the anthropological framework he's using. My copy looks insane. I know it looks insane.
+
+But here's the thing that's eating me alive: I have no proof I said it first. It was just a conversation. There's no email, no notes he took, nothing. And now I'm
+LUKE: That's — okay, keep going.
+CALLER: ...I'm lying awake at night wondering if I'm actually losing my mind. Like, if I can't prove something happened, did it happen? That's a real philosophical problem, right? But it's also maybe just me being paranoid at one in the morning.
+
+The other thing is — and I hate that I'm thinking this — but I looked back at his 2021 essay. The one on institutional memory that's why I came to UNM in the first place. I applied here specifically to work with him because of that essay. And there was a grad student he had in 2019 who left the program suddenly. Just disappeared. And now I'm reading that essay again and I'm seeing things in it that feel like they might not be entirely his, and I don't even know if I'm pattern-matching or if there's actually something there.
+
+So either my advisor is systematically taking ideas from his students, or I'm constructing this whole paranoid narrative out of nothing, and I genuinely cannot tell which one is true. And I don't know what to do with that. Do I say something? To who? Do I destroy my academic relationship with someone I came here to study with? Do I just... let it go?
+
+I make coffee during the day, by the way. Pour-over coffee. My coworkers call me the professor and usually it's funny but tonight it's making me feel
+LUKE: And then what?
+CALLER: Like I'm a character in someone else's story. Like I'm not the one making decisions, I'm just the one things are happening to.
+
+That's the part that's really getting to me. Because if he took the idea, then at least the idea exists, right? At least temporal debt is real enough to be worth stealing. But if I'm making this up, if I'm just seeing patterns that aren't there because I'm exhausted and paranoid, then what am I? Just a guy who didn't sleep and convinced himself he was wronged by someone he admires.
+
+I need to know which one it is. Or I need someone to tell me what the right move is when you can't know which one it is. Because either way I'm fucked. Either I stay quiet and let it happen, or I say something I can't prove and I'm the grad student who cried plagiarism. I'm the one people don't want to work with. I'm the unstable one.
+
+What do you do with an injustice you can't prove? How do you live with not knowing if you're being wronged or if you're just broken?
+LUKE: And then what?
+CALLER: I don't know. I called you. I'm calling at almost one in the morning because I don't know what else to do.
+
+I thought maybe if I said it out loud to someone, if I heard myself say it, I'd know whether I sound crazy or whether I sound like someone who actually has a legitimate problem. But I still don't know. I still can't tell.
+
+Do you think I should talk to him about it? Do I go to the department chair? Do I just drop out and find a different advisor and pretend this never happened? Because that's an option too. Just leave. Start over somewhere else where I'm not spending every Thursday afternoon wondering if the person across the desk from me is taking pieces of my brain.
+
+What would you do?

docs/samples/sample_ronda.txt

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+=== Ronda (67, Tucumcari, NM) ===
+voice: Loretta
+emotional_register: Gruff and self-deprecating on the surface, genuinely tender underneath — the kind of person who will tell you she's fine in a tone that makes you want to check
+secret_want: To be seen as someone who is parenting correctly by allowing wonder — she suspects her daughter thinks she lets Cody run too wild and she wants validation from a neutral party
+
+CALLER (Ronda, 67, Tucumcari, NM): Luke I want to say first I'm not one of those grandmothers who calls about every little thing, I once drove through an ice storm outside Amarillo with a busted heater and didn't call nobody.
+LUKE: So what are you gonna do about it?
+CALLER: Well that's what I'm calling you about, Luke. I don't know what to do and I'm trying real hard not to overreact here because the kid is nine and he's curious and that's a good thing. That's a real good thing.
+
+But he ate something off my palo verde tree last Tuesday that wasn't on the Desert Nibbles channel and his mom — my daughter — she's already giving me that look, you know the one, like I'm not supervising right. And I am supervising. I'm right there watching him. But I don't want to tell him no, don't wonder about plants, don't explore. I spent thirty-one years driving because I wanted to see what was out there.
+
+The thing is, the YouTube guy, Mr. Pete, he seems legit. He's careful about it. He shows you the whole plant, the leaves, the berries, he explains what's safe and what's not. So I can't even blame the source, which somehow makes this harder.
+
+I guess what I'm asking is — how do I let him keep being curious without, you know, him ending up in the emergency room? Or without his mother deciding I'm the irresponsible grandma who let him poison himself in my backyard?
+LUKE: Go on.
+CALLER: Well, I'm thinking maybe I need to make it official, you know? Like, turn it into a real project instead of just him wandering around eating whatever catches his eye.
+
+I could take him to one of those native plant nurseries, the ones where everything's labeled. Let him see the plants in a controlled way. Or maybe I get one of those field guides, the laminated ones you can actually use, and we go through my yard together systematically. Write down what's what. Make a list.
+
+That way he's still exploring, he's still curious like he should be, but I'm the one directing it instead of just hoping he doesn't grab the wrong thing off a tree.
+
+And maybe I talk to his mom about it. Not like I'm defending myself, but like — here's what we're doing, here's how we're doing it safely. Because she needs to understand that I'm not just letting him run wild. I'm actually, you know, engaged with this.
+
+The other thing is I could probably limit the YouTube channel to specific times. Not ban it. Just like, Mr. Pete on Saturday mornings, and then we go outside and we verify things together. So it's not just passive watching, it's actually learning.
+
+Does that sound like I'm overthinking this or does that sound reasonable?
+LUKE: How'd you end up there?
+CALLER: You mean in her backyard? Well, that's where I live now, Luke. I retired about four years ago and my daughter, she needed help with the kids, and I needed to not be alone in some apartment somewhere after thirty-one years of moving. So I moved into her guest house out in Arizona. It made sense at the time and it still does most days.
+
+Cody, he's the youngest of her three, and he's always been the one who notices things. Asks a lot of questions. Last summer he got interested in rocks, then it was insects, and now it's plants. I figured it was just how his brain works and I thought it was good that he had space to explore it.
+
+But when I found him with that root in his mouth last Tuesday, that's when I thought — okay, Ronda, maybe you need to think about this different. Maybe curiosity without guardrails isn't the same thing as freedom.
+
+I drove alone across this country hundreds of times, Luke. I knew where the rest stops were, I knew which routes were safe at night, I knew how to break down on the side of the road. That wasn't recklessness. That was curiosity with a plan.
+
+So I guess that's what I'm trying to figure out. How to give that to him. The curiosity with the plan.
+LUKE: Yeah?
+CALLER: Yeah. I mean, I know he's only nine. I know he's not me. But I also remember being nine and wanting to understand things, and I remember my mother telling me no so much that I just stopped asking her anything.
+
+She had this card, actually, that she kept — I've got it in my wallet right now, laminated — it says worry is a prayer for what you don't want. She gave it to me when I told her I wanted to drive truck and she was scared. And I kept that card all these years.
+
+The irony is not lost on me that I'm sitting here at eleven o'clock at night calling a radio show because I'm worried.
+
+But here's the thing — I don't want to be the person who tells Cody to stop wondering. I just need to figure out how to wonder with him in a way that doesn't end with a trip to the ER and his mother never letting him come to my house again.
+
+So yeah. That's where I'm at.

docs/samples/sample_rosalind.txt

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+=== Rosalind (47, Las Cruces, NM) ===
+voice: Veronica
+emotional_register: Precise, earnest, quietly desperate for intellectual companionship, not fragile but genuinely unsettled
+secret_want: Permission — from a stranger, in the dark, over the radio — to keep believing in both things at once without choosing.
+
+CALLER (Rosalind, 47, Las Cruces, NM): I'm not one of those people, I want to be clear about that, but I've been having a hard time sleeping.
+LUKE: Go on.
+CALLER: I've been going to this study group. Wednesday nights at the library where I work. It's not... it's not a cult thing or anything like that. We're just looking at the documents. The Pentagon stuff. We read them together and we talk about what they mean.
+
+And I'm fine with that. I can do that. But then I go home and I pray and I think about the Incarnation and I think about what it would mean if we're not alone and my brain just kind of stops working.
+
+I need to know if those two things can exist in the same person. I need to know if asking these questions makes me a bad Catholic or just a curious person. Because my priest couldn't answer me and I've been lying awake at night feeling like I'm supposed to choose and I don't want to choose.
+LUKE: What'd she say?
+CALLER: Who, my priest? He just... he kept saying that God created all things visible and invisible, which I already know. I already know that. And then he got quiet and he said maybe I should talk to someone with more education in these matters. Which basically means he doesn't know either.
+
+So I'm calling you instead because it's midnight and I can't sleep and I figure if anyone's heard this question before, it's you.
+LUKE: Mm-hmm.
+CALLER: I keep thinking about it like this. If God made everything, then He made whatever's out there too, right? So encountering that wouldn't be encountering something outside His creation. It would just be... encountering more of His creation.
+
+But then I think about the Resurrection. I think about what makes us special in Christian theology. And I don't know if that falls apart if we're not the only intelligent beings God bothered with.
+
+I've been a librarian for twenty-three years. I organize information for a living. I'm supposed to be comfortable with ambiguity. But this isn't ambiguous to me anymore. It's either going to be a crisis or it's going to be fine, and I can't figure out which one I'm supposed to be prepared for.
+LUKE: Yeah?
+CALLER: Yeah. And the thing that's really keeping me up is that I don't even know if I want an answer. I think I just want permission to stop feeling like I'm doing something wrong by thinking about both things at the same time.
+
+My ex-husband would have made a joke about this. Some stupid joke about me checking out books under fake names, which I did, by the way. I felt more guilty about lying on the library card than I did about the book itself, which is its own kind of problem.
+
+But he's not here to make the joke, so I'm calling you instead.

docs/samples/sample_silas.txt

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+=== Silas (52, Deming, NM (The Wellspring, 200 acres scrubland)) ===
+voice: Timothy
+emotional_register: Quietly fractured — the warmth is still there but it is doing real load-bearing work tonight, holding something heavier than usual underneath it
+secret_want: To be told that growth is supposed to hurt and that he is not a bad man — and to be believed when he agrees.
+
+CALLER (Silas, 52, Deming, NM (The Wellspring, 200 acres scrubland)): Brother, I've been standing over a curing rack for about four hours now and I think I need to talk to someone who isn't me.
+LUKE: And then what?
+CALLER: I'm sorry, I'm not following you. And then what, what?
+LUKE: How'd you end up there?
+CALLER: Oh. Right. Well, three days ago I held a community meeting — we call it a circle, actually — and I made some changes to how we do things here at The Wellspring. I apologized for... for the way certain practices had developed without real consent. The shared intimacy nights. I made them optional. I read it from three pages of yellow legal pad, and I cried, which I haven't done in front of the community before.
+
+Nine people thanked me. But two people left. Just walked out and didn't come back. One of them was Deva, and Deva has been with us for six years and she runs — she ran — the soap-curing room. She does the stamp work. The heron stamp. Every bar gets pressed with a heron.
+
+So now I'm doing it myself at midnight because the Santa Fe spa order is due next week and I can't... I can't leave it undone. But my hands aren't hers. The impressions aren't coming out right.
+LUKE: Mm-hmm.
+CALLER: And I keep thinking about what she said when she left. She said, "You're a good man who built a bad system, Silas." And I can't — I honestly cannot tell if that's forgiveness or if it's the cruelest thing anyone's ever said to me.
+LUKE: So what are you gonna do about it?
+CALLER: I don't know. That's why I'm calling you at midnight instead of sleeping or fixing the stamps or... I don't know.
+
+Part of me thinks I should call her. Try to make it right somehow. But what does that even mean? I apologized. I changed the policy. She left anyway because the apology proved the whole thing was wrong to begin with, which — she's not wrong about that. So what am I supposed to do, unsay it? Take it back?
+
+The other part of me thinks maybe the answer is just to keep going. To do the stamp work myself until I get better at it, to run the business, to let people leave if they need to leave. To accept that growth is supposed to hurt and that I did the right thing even though it feels like I'm losing something.
+
+But I need to know — is that true? Did I do the right thing?

docs/samples/sample_toad.txt

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+=== Toad (38, Española, NM) ===
+voice: Vinny
+emotional_register: Tough exterior, genuine bewilderment at his own sadness, searching for permission to feel it
+secret_want: To be told he is a good father even though he coaches the team partly for himself.
+
+CALLER (Toad, 38, Española, NM): My kid quit baseball on me and I know that sounds dumb but I'm driving around and I can't go home yet.
+LUKE: How'd you end up there?
+CALLER: Well, he just... he told me Wednesday night at dinner. Said he didn't want to do it anymore. Didn't want to play this season. I asked him why and he couldn't really give me a reason, you know? Just said he didn't feel like it.
+
+I've been coaching that team for four years, Luke. Four years. And I didn't push him or nothing, I just said okay, we'll talk about it more. But inside I felt like somebody punched me in the gut.
+
+So now I'm driving around at eleven o'clock at night because if I go home I'm just gonna sit there and my wife's gonna ask me what's wrong and I don't even know how to explain it.
+LUKE: Mm-hmm.
+CALLER: I mean, I know he's his own person, right? He gets to choose. I'm not one of those dads. I'm not trying to live through my kid or whatever. But this was... we had something, you know? Every spring we had this thing.
+
+And I don't even know if he knows how much it meant to me. That's the thing that's sitting weird.
+LUKE: So what are you gonna do about it?
+CALLER: I don't know. That's why I'm calling you at midnight instead of being home. I want to talk to him more about it, find out what's really going on. Maybe he's scared, maybe some kid said something to him, I don't know.
+
+But part of me is scared if I push too hard he's gonna dig in harder, you know? And another part of me wants to just tell him he's playing anyway because he committed to the team.
+
+I guess what I'm really asking is... am I allowed to be this upset about it? Because it feels stupid. He's nine. Kids change their minds about stuff. But I can't shake it, and I feel like maybe that means I'm doing something wrong as a father.
+LUKE: That's — okay, keep going.
+CALLER: I have this glove in the back of my truck. Still in the box. I bought it for him when he was six, too small for him then, so I just kept it. Been sitting back there for three years waiting for him to grow into it. I don't even know why I keep it back there except I do.
+
+And there's other stuff too. I coach because I want to be around him, sure, but also because... I don't know, man. Because when I'm on that field I'm not thinking about the shop or the bills or any of it. I'm just there. I'm just present, you know?
+
+And he's good, Luke. He's really good. He's got a real arm and he pays attention. And I thought maybe that meant something. I thought maybe that meant he liked it as much as I do.
+
+But maybe I'm the only one who likes it that much.