combustability and chambers in which the fact is held into
The only thing that ever made Emma sweat was the sun. Never false heat like from cars or homes.
She wore a purple turtle neck on Saturday the 11th and began to sweat profusely. "Why am I sweating so?" asked Emma. This question was odd for many reasons. One was because she was by herself, and to ask a question when you are by yourself is odd. Who was she asking this question too? Herself? If she was asking a question in which she didn't know the answer to, too herself, did she expect an answer? "I am an idiot," realized Emma. "Next time instead of asking the question to myself, I will just try and think of an answer right away." Emma was still talking outloud to herself. Everyone watching was in awe of her simplicity. Saturday the 11th ended with an answer to her question; it was extremely hot out that day
She wore a purple turtle neck on Saturday the 11th and began to sweat profusely. "Why am I sweating so?" asked Emma. This question was odd for many reasons. One was because she was by herself, and to ask a question when you are by yourself is odd. Who was she asking this question too? Herself? If she was asking a question in which she didn't know the answer to, too herself, did she expect an answer? "I am an idiot," realized Emma. "Next time instead of asking the question to myself, I will just try and think of an answer right away." Emma was still talking outloud to herself. Everyone watching was in awe of her simplicity. Saturday the 11th ended with an answer to her question; it was extremely hot out that day