Write the right answer to the question based on the context passage.

Example Input: The pews were packed at First Baptist Church, Coreyville. As part-time music minister of the church, Greg Tenorly sat in his usual place on the podium, behind and slightly to the left of the pastor. He wondered why attendance was up. It was a perfect day--seventy degrees, sunny. That had to be part of the reason. And the sermon title was 'Forgiveness Fighters.' People would much rather hear a sermon about forgiveness than one about Hell.
Everybody wanted to be forgiven. But when it came to forgiving others--many people fight it. The pastor said these folks were the Forgiveness Fighters. He read a scripture passage.
Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.
When Greg heard these verses, which he knew by memory, it was like a slap in the face. How many times had he already forgiven his father? But he knew that 'seventy times seven' did not mean literally 490 times. The number 'seven' in the Bible symbolized completeness. It meant forgiving an unlimited number of times. But how could Greg ever forgive his father for killing his mother?
Maybe if Greg had been there it wouldn't have happened. But he had moved out of the house during his first semester at Lamar University--even though it was only forty minutes away, in Beaumont. A fellow music major had been more than happy to let Greg share the little rent house and the expenses.
Ralph Tenorly had sent his wife to the grocery store for more chips and dip. The big game was already starting, and there were no snacks in the house. But on her way back home, a pickup truck blew through a stop sign, crashing into the driver's side of the car. Barbara was killed instantly. Question: Who read a scripture passage?
Example Output: the pastor

Example Input: I first experienced a loss of sexual desire several years ago, just after I turned 40. For a long time, I thought it was me. I thought maybe it was my age.
After reading every book and article I could find on sex, relationships, and marriage, I started to wonder if maybe it wasn't me. Maybe it was my marriage, maybe it was my husband.
I never wanted to be "that woman". The one that screwed around on her husband. But, I had an affair about six or seven years ago. It didn't last long. But, that's when I knew my marriage was over. It wasn't a lack of sexual desire, it was a lack of desire for my husband. I didn't want him or the marriage. There was nothing wrong with my sex drive.
I told my husband that I'd had an affair. He changed for about a month or so. He was very loving and attentive. But it didn't last. He loves differently than I need to be loved and it's just not in him to love me that way.
A few months after I ended the affair, I got involved with someone else. I know. I shouldn't have. I've experienced things with this other man that I never thought possible. Felt things I thought were only possible in movies.
He's a romantic. Not flowers or candy or jewellery, but he talks and listens. He hears me. He tries to understand me and give me what I need. Deep, intimate conversations. Looking into one another's eyes. Soft caresses. Words of adoration. These things he gives me almost daily.
I never knew I needed romance because I'd never had it. This is how I need to be loved.
After having felt this way, I can't stay in my marriage. It's not fair to either of us.
I'm not sure what happened.
Did we grow apart?
Did one or both of us change?
Do people's needs change as they get older? Question: Who does the author have deep, intimate conversations with?
Example Output: the man she is having an affair with

Example Input: I was driving on Highway 35 on my way home from work. Up in front of me was a giant billboard advertising yet another jeweler, in ten-foot letters and bright silver watches like massive alien machines. The traffic slowed and stopped on the ramp as it bottlenecked further into the city, and my head turned to examine the sign and the blocked view of the cityscape and land beyond. Past it was another billboard, with the name of a casino as its only text, filled with collaged images of money, plush rooms, and dancers. A quarter mile further brought me to an advertisement for business management solutions. Another few hundred yards and I was urged to try the new sandwich at the new sandwich place. The sun set and the signs stayed bright as automatic light switched on.
The city grew dark and the hills beyond feebled out, existing only in our minds and finally not even there. All that remained were the well-lit and shiny reminders that lawyers were standing by to take my case to court, and that somebody's air conditioners would outlast somebody else's.
I had an idea.
I made the call the next day. It would put me back a good half grand, but it would be worth it. There would be no design meeting; I sent them the image and it was printed. A few weeks later it went up.
Now on my commute, when I paused in the crush of metal bodies, I looked up and saw mountains by Maxfield Parrish, reaching up to the clouds in impossible cragginess, rivulets and gushing streams painted down their sides, with the sun striking vibrant oranges and reds into the shadows of the rocks. There were trees in copper-patina green and still pools quieter than the middle of winter but warm as the first day of summer.
No doubt people thought it was the first part of a two-stage advertising gimmick, or a filler to be used when no one was renting space on the sign. But I was happy. Question: Who drives on Highway 35?
Example Output:
The narrator.

