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

[EX Q]: My best story is about Santa Claus. A mall Santa had a heart attack at work and was rushed to the Emergency Room in full cardiac arrest.
Let me explain that a person playing Santa is generally a certain age (white beard) and body type (round) that is predisposed to cardiac disease.
We did everything we could but ultimately our efforts were futile. The mall Santa rode his sleigh into the great beyond.
A mother, there to visit another patient, was insistent that her 7–8 year old son be allowed back to visit his grandmother. We had a strict 12 year old age limit visitation policy. I was called to speak with her.
"Why do you have such a stupid Draconian policy?" She insisted.
"The Emergency Room is no place for a child ma'am. Besides, the germs and infections he may be exposed to, there are things he may see or hear that a child would have a hard time processing," I explained.
"Like what?" She argued.
"Well, there are people in pain moaning," I answered. "And drunks cursing at the staff. It's a tough place."
"He's fine," she insisted. "I think I know how to parent. I don't need you to worry about what my son is able to handle."
I caved in and allowed her back. As we passed the room with the dead Santa, a tech exited and opened the curtain. Her child looked in and saw Santa's lifeless body, ET tube sticking out of his throat, boots still on but costume cut to shreds and strewn across the room.
The child lost it!
"Mom, Santa Claus is Dead!" He cried. "I'm not going to get anything for Christmas."
"Why would someone open the curtain?" The mother demanded.
"I warned you," I said. "That's why we have a 12 years and above visitation policy."
She was not happy. Come to find out the child had his picture made with that very Santa a few days prior. Very ironic. Question: Who did everything they could to save Santa?
[EX A]: The ER worker

[EX Q]: We all present these glossy lives to the world; coffee cups presented to dewy sunrises, champagne in airport lounges, luxurious restaurants that cost more than they should and share the blue skies days of exploration. I'm as guilty as anyone.
But, what about behind those scenes? Those days where the wind is so strong you can't instastory for talking (I'm looking at you Cornwall), when travel mistakes happen (like in Vienna where I accidentally booked our trip a day short) or when everyone asks you what your next trip will be and you sheepishly have to answer ‘er, not sure'.
So I thought I'd get a few things off my chest, and confess a few of the reasons why I probably shouldn't be calling myself a travel blogger. And yes, these are all very much first world problems.
1. I hate photographs of myself.
Ironic, no? Especially when one of the first rules of blogging is all about the cult of personality. I just don't like them. I wish I did, but there are few times that I fancy a photo and even less when I like the result.
2. We nip into a MacDonalds at least once every trip.
It has now become a tradition between nicer restaurants to nip in and order a Big Mac and fries at some point of our trip – but especially in Europe for some reason. Why do their MacDonalds meals taste better?
3. Pastels aren't really my shade.
Again, I wish I could be super girly, twirling in gossamer skirts painted in spring shades but I'm just not. My colour palette is decidedly autumnal/jewel hued and usually sticks to a scarf draped around my neck in a hopefully fashionable manner. And I'm totally ok with that.
4. I once travelled all the way to New Zealand and back (stopping in 3 countries enroute) without a lens cap on my brand new, fairly expensive camera.
This is in no way a #humblebrag about the trip, but a comment on how impractical I can be – and how careful I also am. I lovingly wrapped my camera in a soft scarf every day for 3 weeks, growled under my breath at anyone who looked like they might jostle me and at one point found myself accidentally at the top of a dormant volcano with it. As you do. Question: Who doesn't like photos of herself?
[EX A]: the travel blogger

[EX Q]: Yes, and I am not proud of it, but grief makes you do some really stupid things. My wife walked out of our 9 year marriage and into relationship on the same day with a (so-called) friend of mine that I had known for 25 years. I was completely blindsided and in shock. I was devastated, I was lost, and I was grieving terribly. I had not only lost my wife, but I had also lost my best friend (her, not the asshole so-called friend), and her family. While I was not particularly close to her family (most did not like me according to my ex-wife) I did care about them and they were are part of my life. I absolutely loved her sister and always enjoyed hanging out with her, as well as one of her cousins. Luckily they are both still friends with me on FB so I get to keep in touch. Anyway, I am not proud of the fact that I created a fake FB account to check her page and even talked to her through IM's. I thought that if I could just talk to her, even if not as me, that I would be okay. However, seeing photos of her with someone else just about broke me. It was a very stupid thing to do and only made matters worse. One day I forgot to block my location and she figured out it was me. I felt so stupid, but I had loved her so much that I needed her in my life. She called me out on it. I was busted. I was the grieving idiot that did not want to give up. She just married that person 2 weeks ago, and honestly….I just want her to be happy. I miss her, I always will, and in hindsight, I don't know why she stayed with me as long as she did. I was not an easy person to love. Question: Who did the narrator stalk online?
[EX A]:
His ex-wife

