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When I was 8 or 9, I played a game that I invented with my friends.
On index cards, alphabetized in a recipe box, were written descriptions of fictional ailments, each with a ridiculous name and an equally ridiculous cure. In order to diagnose what illness my playmates suffered from, I would ask them a list of questions, including, “Do you worry about being late?” “Do you have time to do what you like?” and “Are your shoes or boots uncomfortable?” Then I would just watch them for telltale symptoms, like moving more than three times during the interview.
Based on what I heard...
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