Cgh Emojis & Text

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣀⢀⣾⠿⠻⢶⣄⠀⠀⣠⣶⡿⠶⣄⣠⣾⣿⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⡿⣿⠿⣿⡿⢼⣿⣿⡿⣿⣎⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠉⠛⢛⣛⡉⠀⠀⠙⠛⠻⠛⠑⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣧⣤⣴⠿⠿⣷⣤⡤⠴⠖⠳⣄⣀⣹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣀⣟⠻⢦⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡈⠻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡿⠉⡇⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠹⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡟⠀⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠈⠑⠪⠷⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣦⣼⠛⢦⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠲⠖⠛⠻⣿⡿⠛⠉⠉⠻⠷⣦⣽⠿⠿⠒⠚⠋⠉⠁⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⡾⢿⣀⢀⣀⣦⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⣫⣿⡿⠟⠻⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⣧⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⢿⣿⣧⠀⡀⠀⢀⣀⣀⢒⣤⣶⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⡾⠁⠙⣿⡈⠉⠙⣿⣿⣷⣬⡛⢿⣶⣶⣴⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⠤⠾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⠟⡉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⣿⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠠⠿⠟⠻⠟⠋⠉⢿⣿⣦⡀⢰⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁ ⢀⣿⡆⢀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠏⢿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣙⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣻⢿⣷⣀⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⢸⠃⠠⣼⠃⠀⠀⣠⣾⡟⠀⠈⢿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠷⣄⠈⠿⠛⠻⠶⢶⣄⣀⣀⡠⠈⢛⡿⠃⠈⢿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀ ⠟⠀⠀⢻⣶⣶⣾⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⢸⣿⢅⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠋⠉⠉⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠰⡀⢸⣷⣤⣤⡄⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠉⠀⠀⠈⠓⢯⡉⠉⠉⢱⣶⠏⠙⠛⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⢠⡄⠀⠀⠀⣁⠁⡀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣐⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣦⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡿⠛⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⢿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠈⢻⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣯⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣷⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀ ⠀⢰⣿⡟⠋⠉⣹⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀ ⠀⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠛⢻⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣧⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⢿⣿⡆⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⣿⣧⡀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⠶⠀⢠⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⣽⣿⡏⠁⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⢹⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣦⣄⣀⣠⣴⣿⣿⠁⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⡿⣽⣻⡽⢯⡿⣽⣫⡟⣽⣫⢟⣽⢫⡟⣽⢫⡟⣭⡻⣭⢻⡭⢯⡽⣭⢯⡽⣭⠻⣜⡣⢟⣜⡣⢟⡜⣣⢛⡜⣣⢛⡜⣣⢏⡼⣡⢏⡼⣡⢏⡼⣡⢏⡼⡱ ⣿⣷⣻⣟⣾⣳⢿⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⡷⣯⣟⡷⣯⡽⣯⢷⣏⡷⣽⣣⢯⣟⢮⣯⢽⣚⡷⣹⢧⣻⡜⣧⣛⢧⡻⣜⢮⡳⣭⢻⡔⣏⡳⢎⡝⢮⠼⣱⢫⠼⣱⢫⡜⡱⢎⠶⡱⢎⠶⡱⢎⠶⡱⢎⠶⣙ ⣿⢿⣽⡾⣷⣟⣯⢿⡾⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⣞⣯⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⢾⣽⢾⣯⢷⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⢯⣟⡷⢯⣟⡷⣻⣵⡻⣾⣱⢷⣫⠷⣞⢯⡞⣧⢟⡼⣏⢷⣣⢟⡵⣫⢞⡽⣎⢷⡹⣞⢣⡞⣱⢭⡛⡼⣙⡞⣥⣋⢗⣣⠳⣜⡹⢎⡳⣙⢎⡳⣙⢎⡳⣙⢮⡹⣒ ⣿⣯⣷⢿⣳⣯⣟⣯⡿⣽⢯⣿⢾⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⣞⡷⣯⢷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⢯⣷⣟⡿⣞⡿⣞⣯⡿⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣾⣽⣿⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⣷⣿⣷⣯⣟⣾⣭⢿⡹⣾⣹⢮⣏⢷⣫⢞⡵⣫⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⠷⡭⢮⡕⣏⠶⣹⢱⢣⠞⡴⣩⠞⡴⣋⠶⣙⢮⡱⣍⢮⡱⣍⢮⡱⡍⢶⣑⢣ ⣿⡾⣽⡿⣽⡾⣽⣳⡿⣯⣟⣾⣻⢾⣽⣻⣞⡷⣯⢿⡽⣯⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⢾⡽⣟⣾⣽⣻⡽⣟⣯⣷⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣧⣛⡾⣼⢣⡟⣮⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣮⠳⣭⢛⡼⢣⢞⡬⡳⣍⢎⢧⡛⡴⢣⡛⡴⣍⢞⡱⢎⡵⣊⠶⡱⢎⡖⣱⡙⢦⡍⡖ ⣿⣻⣽⣟⡷⣟⣯⡷⣟⡷⣯⢷⣻⣟⣾⣳⢯⡿⣽⢯⣟⡷⣯⢷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⢾⡽⣯⣟⣯⡷⣯⣷⣟⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣵⣫⢞⡵⣏⢾⡱⢯⡞⡵⣛⢦⣛⡼⣍⠾⣰⠳⡜⣎⠶⡹⣜⢣⡝⡲⣍⢮⡱⢫⠴⣩⠞⣡⠳⡜⡥⣚⢥⡚⡜ ⣿⣽⣳⣯⣟⣯⡷⣟⣯⢿⡽⣯⢷⣻⢾⡽⣯⢿⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⢯⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⢾⡽⣯⢿⡽⣞⣯⢿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡽⢮⡝⣧⡛⣵⡩⢖⣣⠞⣬⠳⣥⢛⡼⣌⢳⡱⢎⢧⡚⡵⣊⠶⣉⢧⢛⡤⣛⠴⣋⠼⡱⡜⣆⢧⡙ ⣿⢾⣽⡾⣽⣳⣟⣯⣟⣯⢿⡽⣯⣟⣯⢿⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⡞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⢾⡽⣯⢿⡽⣯⣟⣯⣟⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⢟⠶⣙⢦⡛⡵⢪⡝⢦⡛⡴⣋⠶⣩⢖⡹⢎⠶⡹⠴⣩⠞⡱⢎⡣⠞⡴⢋⡼⣡⠣⡵⣈⠦⣙ ⣿⢯⣷⣟⣯⡷⣯⣷⣻⣞⣯⣟⣷⣻⣞⡿⣾⣽⣻⢾⡽⣻⡞⣷⡻⢷⣛⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⣯⡿⣽⢯⡿⣽⣳⣟⡾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣟⣿⢻⡽⢺⡝⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⢯⡹⣆⠻⣜⢣⠞⣥⢛⡴⣩⢞⡱⢎⡵⢋⡞⣱⢋⠶⣉⠷⡩⢞⡱⣘⠣⢖⡡⢓⡴⣉⠖⣡ ⣿⣻⢷⣻⡾⣽⢷⣯⢷⣻⢾⡽⣞⡷⣯⣟⣷⣳⢯⣟⢾⣳⢟⣳⣟⣯⣟⣾⣳⡽⣞⡷⣯⢿⡽⣯⣟⣷⣻⣞⣿⣿⣿⡟⢥⠲⡝⣾⣟⣿⣿⣻⣿⣟⣿⣯⢿⣞⣷⣻⣽⣚⠷⣘⢧⡚⡕⢦⢫⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣲⢣⡭⢳⢬⢣⡛⡴⣋⠶⡱⢎⡵⢋⡜⣣⠞⡥⢫⡜⡱⢎⡱⢎⠴⢣⡙⢦⡙⢦⠱⣌⠚⡤ ⣿⣽⣻⢷⣻⢯⣟⡾⣯⣟⣯⢿⣽⣻⢷⣻⢮⣽⣳⢯⣻⣭⡟⣷⣞⣳⣞⡷⣯⢿⡽⣽⣏⣯⣟⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣿⣿⠫⠄⣉⣳⣽⣼⣿⣿⣿⢿⣟⣿⢯⣟⡿⣞⣷⡳⢞⡜⢢⠏⡖⡩⢞⡥⣛⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢣⢞⡱⢎⢧⡙⢶⡩⢞⡱⣋⠶⣩⠞⣡⠞⣱⠣⡜⡱⢊⠖⡩⢎⡱⡘⠦⡑⢎⡱⢌⡓⡔ ⣿⢾⣽⣻⣯⢿⣽⣻⢷⣻⣞⣯⢷⡯⣟⣞⡿⣼⢏⣯⢷⣳⣻⣳⣞⢷⣫⣟⡷⣯⣟⢷⣻⢮⡽⣞⣷⡻⣞⣿⣿⠁⠳⢾⣧⣽⣞⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡝⣮⢞⡳⣎⠳⡵⢊⡴⢻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢮⠳⣍⠶⣙⢦⡙⣎⠵⣊⠗⡱⢎⡱⣊⠥⡓⣬⢱⡉⢎⡱⢊⠴⣡⠣⣙⠢⡑⠦⡱⢌ ⣿⢯⣟⡷⣯⣟⣾⡽⣯⢷⣻⣞⣯⣽⣻⣼⣛⣾⣛⡾⣏⡷⣏⡷⣞⣯⢷⢯⡽⣶⢯⣛⣧⢿⡽⣳⢾⣽⣻⣿⠃⢉⡷⣿⣹⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣯⡿⣯⢟⡞⣞⡳⣜⣫⡑⠳⠾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢌⡳⢬⢳⡩⢖⡹⡸⡜⡡⢏⡕⢎⡱⣉⠖⡱⢢⠱⡘⠦⡑⣍⠲⢄⠳⣄⢣⡙⢆⡱⢊ ⣿⣯⢿⡽⣷⣻⣞⡿⣽⢯⣷⣻⢮⢷⣳⣳⠿⣜⣯⢷⣏⡿⣽⣹⢯⣞⣯⢯⣟⡾⣽⣛⣾⣫⡽⢯⣷⣫⣿⡟⢠⣯⣄⢿⣿⣿⣿⡧⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡱⢦⡝⢳⡒⠦⡄⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⡱⣋⠶⣙⢎⡵⢱⠱⣙⠲⡘⢎⡱⢌⢎⡑⢣⠱⣡⢣⡑⠦⡙⣌⢃⢆⠣⡜⠢⣅⠣ ⣿⣞⣿⡽⣷⢯⡿⣽⣻⣟⡶⣯⢟⣯⣗⡯⣿⠽⣞⣯⢾⣝⡧⣟⡧⢿⣜⡯⢾⡽⣞⡽⣶⢏⣿⣛⡶⣯⣿⠇⠿⢱⣿⢸⣿⣿⣡⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣎⠧⡝⢲⠱⣌⡠⢘⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠳⣍⢞⡱⢎⠴⣋⢜⣢⡙⡱⢣⠜⡌⠦⣙⢂⠳⡐⠦⣑⢣⠱⡌⠎⡜⢢⡑⢣⠆⢣ ⣿⡾⣽⣻⡽⣯⣟⣷⣻⠾⣝⣳⣟⣞⡾⣽⢞⡿⣽⣺⣝⣮⡽⣞⡽⣏⡾⣝⣯⠾⣽⣹⢞⣟⣮⢿⣱⢯⣿⠀⣐⡊⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣜⢣⠷⢤⡡⠉⠆⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡎⡵⣊⢮⡱⢍⡲⢩⡒⢤⢣⡑⢣⠚⢬⡑⢢⢍⠲⣉⠖⡡⢎⠱⡘⡜⣠⠣⣘⢂⢎⡡ ⣿⡽⣷⢯⣟⣷⣻⢾⣽⣻⡽⣳⢾⣝⡾⣭⢿⣹⢧⢷⢾⣱⡟⡾⣵⢏⣷⢻⡼⣻⡵⢯⣾⣹⢮⣯⣻⣿⣧⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣶⣭⡞⢣⢏⣬⡱⡌⢒⡠⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⢲⠍⣦⠱⡎⡜⣡⠚⡔⢢⡙⢢⡙⢦⡘⢥⢊⠵⡨⠜⡐⢎⠱⡐⢆⡡⢒⡡⢊⠴⡐ ⣿⣳⣟⡾⣽⢯⣟⡾⣽⣫⢷⣻⣞⣽⣳⣛⣞⢯⣞⠾⣼⢏⣷⡳⡽⣞⡽⣞⢧⡿⣱⠾⣭⡟⡾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠾⢞⡩⣇⠣⠌⡑⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣿⣿⣿⡑⢎⡴⢩⡒⢥⠣⣍⠲⣑⠪⡑⢎⡱⢨⠱⡌⢚⠤⢃⠲⡑⡌⢆⠓⡌⢃⠎⡱⠘⡄⢣ ⣿⡽⣞⡿⣽⣻⢾⣽⣳⢯⣟⡵⣞⣧⢷⡻⣼⢏⣾⢻⡽⣺⢧⢿⣹⢾⣹⡞⣯⠾⣝⡯⣗⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣖⣿⢯⢀⢒⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡶⡷⣎⠷⣤⢓⡒⣩⢒⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡹⠋⢴⣆⡘⣿⣷⣏⢲⡘⢥⡙⢆⠳⣨⠱⠌⡥⣙⠢⣅⠣⢃⠍⡆⠣⠍⠦⡑⠌⡌⠱⡈⠆⡜⢠⠃⡜⢠ ⣿⡽⣯⣟⡷⣯⣟⡾⣵⣻⠾⣽⣻⡼⣳⢏⣷⢻⢮⣏⡷⣏⢿⡺⣽⣚⣧⢟⣧⢿⣹⢾⣹⢾⣹⢟⡿⢥⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢳⠚⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣭⡛⠿⡵⣉⠞⣩⠳⢦⡀⢎⣽⣿⣿⣿⣇⢠⣅⠮⠿⢿⠿⣿⣗⠦⣙⢢⡙⣌⠳⣄⠫⡜⡰⢡⠣⡔⢩⢊⠜⡰⢩⠘⡰⢁⠞⡄⢣⠑⡌⠔⡡⢊⠔⡡ ⣿⣽⣳⣯⣟⡷⣯⣟⣳⣽⢻⣳⣭⠷⣏⣟⡮⣟⡽⢮⣗⢯⡯⢷⡳⣏⣾⢫⣞⣳⢯⢾⣹⡞⣽⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡭⣇⡋⡔⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⢮⡓⢦⡙⣷⡳⣬⣦⢥⡛⣤⡙⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡜⣌⠣⣜⠰⢣⢌⡱⢢⢙⣂⠳⢌⡡⠎⢆⡑⢢⠡⡑⢊⠴⡈⢆⠱⣈⠒⡡⠎⡰⢁ ⣿⣞⣷⣻⢾⣽⣳⢯⣷⢫⣯⢷⣚⣯⡽⣞⡵⣯⢽⡻⣼⣛⠾⣯⢽⡳⣽⢻⡼⣽⡺⣏⡷⣽⢣⣟⡞⣿⣾⣥⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡳⢷⡈⡑⠌⢠⡸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣶⣍⢏⡞⣴⣙⣦⡹⢆⣿⣴⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠐⡻⢷⢩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⣨⠱⣌⠹⣂⠎⡔⢣⢌⠢⢃⠆⢢⠍⢢⠘⡄⢣⠘⣐⠢⡑⢌⠢⡁⢎⠰⡁⢆⠡ ⣿⢾⣳⣯⢿⡾⣽⣻⣼⣻⢞⣽⣹⢶⣻⢼⣻⢼⣳⡻⣵⣫⢟⡮⣗⣻⡼⣳⡽⣖⣻⡝⣾⡱⣟⢮⣽⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣯⢳⣦⣷⣶⣿⣿⢿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣼⣆⢳⣎⠿⣖⣾⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⣟⢈⣦⣹⣿⣿⢿⣿⠓⡤⢓⣌⢣⠱⡊⢜⡂⢎⡱⢊⡜⢄⠚⡄⢣⠘⡄⢃⠆⡱⢈⠆⡱⢈⠆⡱⢈⠄⡃ ⣿⢯⣟⡾⣯⣟⡷⣯⢶⣏⣟⡮⣗⣻⡼⣏⡾⡽⢶⡻⣵⢫⣾⡹⣞⡵⣫⢷⣹⢞⡵⣻⢖⣻⡝⣾⣿⠁⠰⠟⣿⣯⢸⣿⣯⡧⣴⣠⣴⣶⣦⣄⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣮⣷⣾⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠃⢿⣿⠟⣽⣿⣿⠣⡙⡔⢣⠜⣢⠣⢍⠢⡙⢄⢢⠡⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠊⡄⠣⡐⢄⠃⡔⢠⠃⡌⡐ ⣿⢯⡿⣽⣻⢾⡽⢯⡷⣞⢧⣟⣭⠷⣝⡾⣱⠿⣭⢗⣯⢳⡞⣵⡻⣼⣛⢮⡗⣯⡝⣧⡟⣧⢻⡞⣿⠀⠀⣦⣿⣿⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣹⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣠⣛⣷⠿⣫⣾⢃⠧⡱⡘⢥⠚⣄⠳⣈⠱⡈⢆⠢⡑⢌⠢⡑⢌⠢⡑⠰⡈⢆⠡⢃⠌⡂⠜⡠⢂⠅⢢⠁ ⣿⢯⣿⣳⣟⣯⣟⣯⠷⣏⡿⡼⣞⢯⣻⠼⣏⣟⢮⣻⡜⣯⢞⣳⡽⣣⢯⣳⢻⡼⣽⢲⡟⣼⡳⣏⢿⣆⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠶⢟⣿⢅⠺⡰⢡⡙⠤⢋⠤⠓⡄⢣⠘⡄⢣⠘⡄⢣⠘⠤⡑⢨⠑⠌⡄⢃⠢⡘⠄⡃⠔⣁⠊⡄⢃ ⣿⣻⣞⡷⣿⢮⡽⣞⣿⡹⣞⡽⣞⢯⣳⢻⡝⣮⢟⡶⣻⡝⣞⣧⢻⡵⣫⣗⢯⣳⡭⢷⣫⢷⡹⣎⡯⢿⣆⠘⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⢀⢻⡯⢌⢣⡑⢧⠘⡥⢋⠌⡓⢌⠢⡑⢌⠢⡑⢌⠢⢉⠆⢡⠂⡜⡐⢌⠂⡅⠢⡑⠌⢒⡀⠣⠌⡄ ⣿⣳⢯⡿⣽⣏⡿⣽⣲⢟⡽⣞⣭⢷⣫⢟⡼⣏⡾⣳⢧⣛⢷⡺⣝⡾⡵⣞⢯⡖⣯⡳⣝⡮⢷⡹⣞⣻⣿⡄⣿⣿⣿⡟⢛⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⠛⢿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠸⣹⡟⣌⠲⣡⠊⡕⢢⠡⢚⠰⡈⠖⡡⢊⠔⠡⢂⠱⡈⢌⠂⡅⢒⡈⢄⠣⡐⢡⠂⢍⠂⡌⢡⠒⠠ ⣿⡽⣯⣟⡷⣯⢷⣳⡽⢾⣹⡞⡽⣎⡷⣫⡽⣞⡵⣛⣮⢟⣮⢽⣣⢟⣵⢫⡾⣹⢖⣯⢳⡝⣧⢻⡜⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⣿⡿⡏⢻⣿⣟⣤⣽⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠠⢚⡯⣐⠣⢆⠹⣠⢃⠣⢌⠢⡑⠌⠴⢁⢊⠱⡈⢆⠘⡠⢃⡘⢄⡘⢄⠢⢑⢂⠩⢄⠊⡔⠡⠌⡡ ⣿⣽⣳⣯⣟⣷⣛⣶⢻⡝⣧⡻⣝⢾⣱⣏⢷⣹⢞⡽⣎⢿⡜⣧⣛⠾⣜⢯⣳⣛⠾⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠳⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠌⡐⢫⢄⠫⡜⢠⢃⠌⡒⢌⠢⢑⠊⡄⠣⢌⠰⡐⡈⢆⠡⢂⠔⡂⠔⡈⢆⠡⢊⠰⡈⠒⢄⠣⡘⠠ ⣿⣞⣷⣻⣞⡾⣝⡾⢯⣽⢺⡵⣏⡟⣶⡹⣞⡽⣚⡷⣹⢮⡻⣵⢫⡟⡽⣎⠷⣭⣛⢮⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⡞⡶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠈⢀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠬⣙⠆⢳⠘⠤⣉⠆⡱⢈⢆⠡⢊⠰⡁⢆⠡⢂⠱⣀⠣⠌⢒⡈⢆⠡⢂⠱⡈⠤⢡⠉⡂⢆⠡⡁ ⣿⢾⣽⣳⢯⣟⡽⣞⡿⣜⣳⡽⣺⡝⣶⢫⢷⡹⣝⠾⣭⣳⢻⣜⡳⣽⢳⣭⣛⢶⣭⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣮⣝⡳⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⡈⠴⣈⢏⠰⣉⠒⡡⢊⠔⡡⢈⠆⡡⢒⠈⡔⡈⢆⠡⡐⢂⡑⠢⡐⢂⠅⡊⠔⡠⢃⠢⡑⠨⠄⡃⠔ ⣿⣻⢾⣽⣳⢾⣹⣳⢽⡺⣵⢫⢷⡹⣞⡽⢮⣽⣚⢯⣳⢭⣳⢭⣳⢭⣳⢮⡝⡾⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⢶⣭⢳⢧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⡐⢈⠲⢡⢎⡱⢄⡩⢐⠡⢊⠄⣃⠰⢁⠢⡑⠰⡈⢄⠃⡔⣁⠢⡑⢄⠃⡌⠰⣁⠒⡄⢃⠌⡑⢌⠰⢁ ⣿⣽⣻⢾⡽⣞⣧⢟⣞⣳⡭⣟⢮⢷⡹⣞⣳⢮⡝⣾⣱⢻⡜⣧⣛⢮⡳⣏⢾⣱⢏⡾⣱⢏⡾⣹⢳⣎⡟⡾⣴⢛⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠭⡀⢡⠌⡡⢂⡅⢺⡔⡨⢔⡡⢊⡅⢒⠠⡑⣈⠒⡈⢅⠒⣈⠒⡐⢄⠒⡨⠐⡌⠰⣁⢂⠒⡈⢆⡘⠰⢈⠢⢁ ⣿⢾⡽⣯⢷⣻⢮⣛⣮⢳⣝⣮⣛⢮⢷⡹⣎⢷⣹⠶⣭⣳⣛⠶⣭⡳⣝⡞⣧⣛⢮⣳⡝⣮⢳⣝⡳⢮⣝⡳⣯⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⡁⠞⡌⠐⡤⠂⠤⢡⠘⣐⠣⣏⡐⠆⡔⣡⠈⡆⡑⠰⣀⠃⡜⢠⢊⡐⢌⠰⣈⠂⡅⢃⠌⡡⢐⢂⠱⢈⠆⢌⠡⢊⠄⠡ ⡿⣯⣟⡷⢯⢷⣫⠷⣭⢷⣚⢶⡹⢮⡳⣝⢮⣳⢭⣛⢶⣣⢏⡟⡶⣝⢮⣝⠶⣭⡳⢧⣻⣜⡳⢮⣝⡳⢮⣽⣟⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣍⡳⢍⢦⣹⡰⢬⠑⡠⠨⠰⢀⣋⠄⠳⣼⡄⣙⠰⢠⡘⠤⣁⠣⡐⢌⡐⢢⠐⡰⢈⠢⠄⡃⠔⣈⠢⠑⡂⢌⠢⡁⢎⠠⠃⡄⢊⠐ ⣿⢷⣯⣟⢯⢷⣫⣟⢮⣳⡝⣮⣛⢧⣛⢮⡳⣝⡮⣝⣮⢳⣏⣞⡳⣝⠾⣜⡻⢶⣹⢳⡳⢮⣝⡳⢮⣝⡳⣞⢿⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣭⢻⣌⠳⣭⢖⣦⠳⣌⢌⠡⢁⠒⢡⠈⢎⠡⠜⣷⡈⠜⣠⠘⡰⢀⢣⠘⡄⠒⡄⢣⠐⡡⢂⠱⢈⠒⡠⢁⠣⢘⠠⢂⠅⢊⠐⠡⠐⠂⠌ ⣿⣻⢶⢯⣛⡾⡵⣞⢯⢶⡹⣖⢯⡞⣭⣳⢻⣜⡳⣝⢮⡳⣞⡼⣳⢭⣛⣮⡝⣧⢏⡷⣹⢳⢮⣝⡳⣎⠷⣭⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢯⣽⣳⢮⡳⣎⡳⡼⡞⡴⢫⡜⠌⢦⠉⠈⠄⡐⠂⡜⢨⢽⣿⡔⢂⠱⣀⠃⢆⠱⣈⠱⡈⢆⠱⣀⠣⡘⢄⠣⡐⢡⠊⡄⠣⢌⠘⡀⢊⠡⠌⠡⢈ ⣟⡷⢯⣟⡽⣺⣝⢾⡹⣎⢷⡹⢮⣝⠶⣭⡳⢮⣝⢮⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⢮⣳⢮⣝⢮⡻⡼⣭⣛⠾⣜⡳⣭⣛⠶⣭⢿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣏⣟⡳⢞⡥⢯⡽⣭⢳⢧⡹⢜⣣⡙⢾⡀⠎⠡⠀⢄⠡⡀⠣⢎⢿⣿⣧⣖⡠⢉⠆⡒⠤⡑⡈⢆⠱⣀⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⠰⡈⠆⡁⠢⠐⡈⢂⠁ ⣯⣟⣟⣮⡽⣳⢞⣯⢳⡝⣮⢽⡳⣎⡟⡶⣝⢯⡞⣧⣛⢮⢷⡹⣞⢧⣛⠾⣜⢧⡻⣵⢣⣏⠿⣜⡳⢧⣏⠿⣜⡧⣏⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⢾⡸⣹⡍⣞⣱⠞⣥⢻⢦⡙⣦⠧⡙⢦⡑⢎⠡⡀⠆⠰⢀⢣⠘⡼⣷⣏⡿⣿⣶⣾⣤⣵⣠⡑⣈⠒⠤⢑⠰⡈⢆⠱⡈⢆⠡⢃⠜⡠⠑⣂⠑⡠⠁⠌ ⣷⣻⡼⢶⣻⢵⣫⢞⣧⢻⡜⣧⢻⡼⣹⢳⡝⣮⡝⡶⣭⣛⢮⣳⡝⣮⣝⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⡳⣞⡽⢮⣝⡳⣎⠿⣜⡳⣝⠾⣭⣛⠿⡿⢿⠿⣿⢿⣿⠋⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡧⢷⡩⡜⠶⣥⢯⡙⣧⣾⠵⣣⠝⣌⠣⡜⢢⠡⡁⠂⠅⣂⠢⠘⢤⢫⡝⣻⣷⣻⢞⣽⣻⣟⣿⡿⣿⣶⣮⣴⣡⣈⠆⡑⠌⢢⠁⢎⡐⠡⡀⠎⢠⢁⠂ ⣷⣳⢻⣏⣞⢧⣛⡾⣜⢧⡻⣜⣧⢻⡵⣫⢾⡱⣏⢷⣣⢟⣮⢳⡝⡶⣭⢳⡝⣮⢳⣭⢳⡝⣞⡳⢮⡝⣾⡹⢧⡻⣜⡻⢶⡍⡷⣍⣛⠮⡵⢎⣽⠀⠀⠀⠀⢮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡞⣥⢳⡉⢳⡜⣦⢿⡻⣌⠷⣢⠝⣠⠒⡌⢠⠃⡔⢁⠂⠴⢈⡑⢎⡳⢼⢯⡷⣯⣟⣮⢷⣻⣾⣟⡿⣽⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣤⣉⡤⠘⢠⠁⡌⠂⡄⢂ ⡷⢯⣛⣞⢮⡻⣜⡳⣝⢮⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⢧⣏⢷⡹⣎⢷⣫⢞⣧⢻⡵⣫⢷⡹⣎⢷⡺⣝⠾⣱⢏⡳⣝⢶⣹⢳⡝⣧⣛⢧⠞⡵⢎⢧⡛⣜⢣⢾⡃⠀⠀⠀⠠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣷⡻⣬⢓⣌⠶⣹⣯⣗⣳⣭⠳⡆⣍⠲⠠⠄⠃⡜⠐⡌⡀⢂⠬⠑⡎⡵⢋⡞⣹⢳⣻⣾⣿⢿⣟⣾⣟⣷⣿⣿⣽⣷⡿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣴⣀⠡⠐⠂ ⣟⢯⡽⣎⣯⢳⡭⣗⢯⡞⣧⢻⡜⣯⣝⡳⢮⣏⢷⡹⣎⢷⣫⢞⣧⢻⡵⣫⢷⡹⣎⠷⣭⢻⡥⣏⢷⡹⣎⢷⣫⢞⡵⣭⠺⡭⣝⢮⢣⡝⣬⠓⡾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠐⢼⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⠶⣏⢬⣛⣷⣻⣞⡷⣊⠷⣉⠦⣁⠣⣘⠐⡈⠱⣀⠖⠡⠀⡝⡘⡔⠫⡔⢣⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⣾⢿⣟⣷⡿⣯⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣤ ⣯⣛⢾⡱⣏⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⣛⠶⣭⣛⠷⣎⢯⡳⡽⣎⢷⣫⢞⣧⢻⡵⣫⠷⣭⢻⡜⣧⢳⡝⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⣋⠾⣜⢫⡵⣚⡬⢳⡜⢦⡛⡴⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡿⣜⡶⣹⣾⢯⣟⣳⡽⢎⡕⢢⠰⣁⠣⡜⢀⠡⡘⢠⠁⢆⠐⡤⢩⠓⣬⢓⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣯⣿⣻⣿⣿ ⡷⣭⡗⣯⠽⣎⢷⣫⢞⡵⣫⡞⣭⣛⠶⣭⢻⡼⣣⢟⡵⣫⢞⡵⣫⢞⣧⢻⡵⣻⡜⣧⢻⣜⡳⢞⡭⡞⣵⢫⡞⣭⢻⢬⡳⣜⡱⢺⡱⢎⢧⡙⡖⣿⠀⠐⠄⢀⠀⠀⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡷⣏⣷⣿⣿⢿⣻⡝⢮⡜⣡⠓⠬⣑⠜⣨⠂⡁⢃⡚⢤⡈⢠⢃⡝⢦⣛⡾⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣽⣿⣽⣿ ⣟⡵⣻⣜⡻⣜⢧⣛⢮⡳⢧⡻⣵⢫⡟⡼⢧⡻⣵⢫⡞⣵⢫⡞⣵⢫⡞⣧⣛⢶⡹⣎⢷⣪⠽⣹⢼⣙⢮⣳⢹⡜⣣⢳⣙⠦⣝⢣⡝⢎⢶⣭⡿⠛⠀⠀⠀⢹⠆⣄⣀⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡽⣾⣿⣯⡿⣧⣛⢧⡚⡥⢊⠶⣩⢎⡡⢚⠄⢃⠜⡢⣄⠣⡘⣬⢣⠿⣽⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣯⢞⡵⣎⡷⣹⢎⣯⢳⡽⣳⡝⣮⢳⡽⣹⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⣻⡜⣧⣛⢶⡹⣎⢷⡹⢶⣩⢏⠷⡮⣝⡞⣬⡓⣞⣱⢫⡜⣹⢬⣳⡾⠟⠋⠁⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡅⣦⢉⡉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣖⡻⢦⡛⣌⢏⡾⡵⢪⡕⢯⣌⢣⣌⡱⢎⡧⣙⣤⢏⡿⣵⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢷⣫⢞⡵⣫⢗⡯⣞⢧⡻⣵⢻⡜⣧⢻⡵⣫⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⢶⡹⣎⢷⡹⢎⡗⣯⣜⢫⢷⡹⡖⣽⠲⣝⡼⢲⣍⣾⠟⠋⡁⢀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠸⣧⣌⣻⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣥⣋⢷⡙⣞⣮⡽⣽⢳⣚⠷⣜⡲⣬⡳⢯⣶⢻⣼⣻⣞⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣟⡼⣫⢞⡵⣫⢞⡽⣎⠷⣭⢳⡝⣮⢷⡹⢧⣏⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⢮⡝⣧⢳⡝⡮⡝⣏⡞⢶⢎⡿⢬⡳⣝⠮⣝⣲⣽⠟⠋⠀⠠⠀⢀⡀⢀⡈⢷⣾⣿⠀⠀⢠⠀⢻⡄⢽⣷⣎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⡍⣎⢿⣼⣳⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡾⣱⣏⣞⡳⣝⢮⣳⢭⡟⣼⢫⡞⣵⢫⣝⡳⣎⢷⡹⣞⢧⣛⢧⢻⡜⣳⠞⡵⣋⢶⡹⣚⢮⡜⢧⣛⡼⣹⣶⠟⢡⣀⠈⢒⠠⣇⢢⣽⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠈⢣⠀⢳⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣟⡼⣣⢟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢿⣻⢯⣟⡳⡽⣎⢷⣛⣾⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣳⢯⡽⣹⢧⡻⣜⢯⡞⣵⢫⡞⣵⢫⡞⣽⢣⡟⡼⢧⡻⣜⡻⣜⢮⣓⢏⡖⢧⠻⣜⡣⢟⣬⢓⡮⢫⣵⡿⠋⠀⠈⢻⣤⣚⡤⢿⡞⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠈⡆⠸⡄⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡵⣿⣿⣿⣧⣻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣯⣿⣟⡿⣿⣻⣿⣽⣟⣷⣿⢾⣟⡾⣽⣳⢧⣻⣼⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢯⡞⣵⢏⡾⣱⢯⡞⡽⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣝⢧⡟⣼⡱⢏⡶⢭⡺⣜⢫⣝⡲⢭⣓⢮⡹⣼⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⣐⡠⠞⣿⡽⢎⡽⣶⢿⣾⢏⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠀⣧⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣻⣝⡮⣝⡾⣿⣳⣿⣟⣿⣿⣽⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣾⣟⣷⣿⣻⣷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣟⡼⣣⡟⣼⢣⡟⣼⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣾⡱⣏⠾⣜⢧⡝⡞⣜⡣⢗⣎⠳⣎⣵⣫⣼⣶⠟⣉⣠⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⣷⢍⣙⣧⣿⣾⣿⣫⣝⣾⣤⣄⣲⣤⣹⣦⠲⠤⣄⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⢤⣿⣿⡿⢫⣙⢮⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣷⣿⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡷⢯ ⣞⡳⣝⢾⡱⣏⣞⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⡟⣼⢣⡝⣮⣛⡼⢎⣞⡹⡲⣍⣷⡾⠟⢋⢉⣥⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⡩⢞⣷⠟⠉⡐⢎⠛⡍⢯⡽⣻⣿⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣜⣦⡀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢀⣿⡿⠉⢁⠣⣞⣯⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣟⣿⣟⣿⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⠾⣝⢯ ⣯⣝⢾⣣⢟⡼⣎⡷⣹⢎⣯⢳⡝⣮⡝⣮⢳⡝⢶⡹⣜⣫⣖⣽⠿⢋⡡⢴⠶⣞⡾⣞⣷⣿⣾⣿⣿⣟⡶⣡⣿⠋⠀⠀⢁⠢⠕⡚⢡⢎⡱⠭⣽⠿⣟⢿⡻⣝⣮⣿⣿⣿⣷⡧⣿⣿⣿⡋⢥⣿⡏⣠⣄⣠⣔⣫⢿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢿⣿⣟⡿⣿⣾⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣽⣯⢿⡽⣞ ⡷⢮⣳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣾⡱⣏⡞⣧⣛⢶⣽⣮⡷⠿⢛⠛⡫⢍⠋⡅⣎⢱⡙⣎⠿⣜⣻⡽⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢀⢠⡐⣠⠉⠒⠬⡁⢎⡰⢿⣬⡻⣜⣯⢷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣉⡟⢦⡑⣮⢯⣴⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣻⡾⣿⣟⣯⡿⣿⣿⣯⣟⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⡷⣯⡿⣽⢯ ⣽⢳⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⢶⣹⢮⣽⡶⠿⠛⠉⠀⠐⠤⠣⡘⠐⢊⠒⡌⢂⠧⣜⡎⣷⣹⡾⣽⣷⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣡⠲⣌⢶⡹⢿⣆⣙⣲⠱⣮⢙⠶⣣⢿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡦⠥⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⢷⣯⣟⣷⣿⣳⣯⢿⡽⣷⣿⣾⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣿⣿⡷⣟⣯⣿ ⣳⢯⡞⣵⣫⢞⣽⣳⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠠⠂⢀⠈⠄⢡⠘⡰⣍⡞⣴⢯⡷⣯⣟⣿⡾⣟⡿⡹⣍⢆⡳⢣⡽⣘⣮⡟⣽⣿⣿⢣⠷⣌⣯⣛⣷⣻⢾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⣶⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⣯⢷⡿⣜⢯⢾⣭⢿⡿⣿⡿⣿⣾⢿⣿⡿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣾⣿⣻⣿⣾ ⣟⢮⣽⢺⣵⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⣀⠢⡜⢢⡝⢲⣟⡾⣽⣯⣿⣿⣻⡽⣛⢥⢳⡱⢎⢎⣝⢣⡻⣵⣳⡿⣟⣿⣞⣯⢿⣝⡶⣛⡾⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣟⡾⣞⡯⣝⢿⣫⡗⣾⣯⣿⡽⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣟⣿⣷⣿ ⣻⢞⣼⡟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣂⠔⣠⠒⣭⠳⡜⣧⣿⣟⣷⣯⢷⣫⢇⡧⣙⢎⢣⠳⡞⡼⣌⢷⣻⢽⣯⢿⡽⣯⣟⡞⡿⣮⣽⢳⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠘⢦⡈⢿⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⣿⣟⡾⣽⣟⡾⣽⢣⡟⣽⣺⢷⣻⢽⣳⣯⣿⢿⣻⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿ ⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢬⡸⣔⢫⢖⣻⣾⣿⠿⣝⡾⣡⠧⣍⠞⣰⠙⢎⡲⢥⣛⣼⣻⡼⢯⡟⣞⢯⣿⣱⢿⡜⣷⡝⣾⢻⣶⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢳⣄⡆⣹⣜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣟⣿⣳⢏⡷⣭⢗⣯⣛⣷⢻⣾⢯⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢆⡞⠶⣱⣮⣾⣿⣿⢿⡽⣛⡮⢱⡡⣚⡜⡸⢣⢛⣤⡝⣫⣼⠶⡽⢾⡹⡞⡭⢞⠶⢭⢞⡹⣞⡽⣮⢿⣟⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡦⠀⣻⣽⢻⡼⣾⢿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣿⣿⣾⣳⢯⡻⣼⢛⡾⢧⣻⣼⣻⣾⢿⣽⣿⣻⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡒⡌⣞⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡟⢧⠘⡅⣶⢩⠞⣱⢛⣼⢲⡝⣣⢟⡽⢞⡹⢻⡱⣛⢮⣙⣧⢫⡷⣭⢷⣯⣟⣾⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣰⣿⣿⣻⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣮⢷⡏⣯⢳⣭⢻⡼⣟⣧⣿⣹⣽⣻⣯⣿⢿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠈⠀⠀⠀⡜⣰⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⣯⢿⣿⣯⠳⡜⢠⢛⡘⢤⡃⣞⡥⢏⡞⡶⣙⢮⣟⡼⡳⣍⣳⣫⡝⣮⣝⣮⣻⡽⢯⣿⣾⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⡷⢧⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣟⡾⣽⢻⡯⣟⣳⡛⢾⣳⣽⡽⣞⡿⣿⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡘⡼⣼⣿⣻⣷⢿⣽⣿⣽⣿⣿⣦⠃⡄⠙⠦⠸⠀⡗⡌⢲⡛⣜⠶⣙⡞⣼⣱⢯⣝⣣⢿⣝⣯⣟⣾⣳⣿⣿⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡿⣼⣿⣋⢿⡟⣞⣻⣞⡷⣹⢏⡷⣫⢷⣹⣛⣷⣻⣽⣿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡉⣥⢻⣽⣷⢿⣷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠂⠄⠡⠒⠐⠈⠳⢐⡚⡡⢜⡭⢻⡴⣛⢶⣭⡞⣧⣟⣯⢿⣭⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡛⢿⠙⣇⣿⢫⡝⣭⣓⣮⠷⣳⢾⣱⢟⣯⣟⣯⣷⣻⣾⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣷⣟⡷⣯⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⣀⣄⣠⠌⢦⡱⣯⣿⣻⣾⡿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠙⠀⠀⠀⡰⣃⡤⢋⣜⣍⣫⣜⣣⣷⣻⣟⣶⡿⣟⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⡉⠁⡫⢜⠣⢯⣜⣦⠳⣬⠷⣽⣚⣷⣞⣳⣾⣷⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣹⣿⣽⣯⣿

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣙⢿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣹⣟⣫⣼⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⣐⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀ ⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠋⠀⣀⠄⡂⠍⣀⣒⣒⠂⠀⠬⠤⠤⠬⠍⠉⠝⠲⣄⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠊⢔⠕⠈⣀⣀⡀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⡍⠁⠀⠁⢂⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣾⠥⠀⠀⣠⢠⣞⣿⣿⣿⣉⠳⣄⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣶⡄⠀⠀⣘⢦⡀ ⢀⡞⡍⣠⠞⢋⡛⠶⠤⣤⠴⠚⠀⠈⠙⠁⠀⠀⢹⡏⠁⠀⣀⣠⠤⢤⡕⠱⣷ ⠘⡇⠇⣯⠤⢾⡙⠲⢤⣀⡀⠤⠀⢲⡖⣂⣀⠀⠀⢙⣶⣄⠈⠉⣸⡄⠠⣠⡿ ⠀⠹⣜⡪⠀⠈⢷⣦⣬⣏⠉⠛⠲⣮⣧⣁⣀⣀⠶⠞⢁⣀⣨⢶⢿⣧⠉⡼⠁ ⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠳⣌⡟⠻⠷⣶⣧⣀⣀⣹⣉⣉⣿⣉⣉⣇⣼⣾⣿⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡄⠀⠀⠘⠳⣄⡀⡼⠈⠉⠛⡿⠿⠿⡿⠿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣕⠠⣒⠌⡙⠓⠶⠤⣤⣧⣀⣸⣇⣴⣧⠾⠾⠋⠀⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠶⣭⣒⠩⠖⢠⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠔⠁⡰⠀⣧⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠲⢤⣀⣀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣠⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⠒⠲⠶⠤⠴⠒⠚⠁⠀⠀

RIIZE IS 7!!! 🗣

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠿⣟⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣏⡏⠀⠀⠀⢣⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⠧⠤⠤⠔⠋⠀⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡀⢀⣶⠤⠒⠀⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣆⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢿⢿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠘⣿⠋⠁⠀⠙⢇⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢇⡞⠘⣧⠀⢖⡭⠞⢛⡄⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣿⣛⣥⠤⠤⢿⡄⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣼⡟⡱⠛⠙⠀⠀⠘⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀ ⢸⡏⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⡀ ⠸⣧⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇ ⠀⣿⡄⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀ ⠀⢹⡇⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⡇⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣼⠟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⣧⣀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⢀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠙⢷⣄⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣷⣦⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⠾⠷⣦⣤⣤⡶⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠎⠨⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣙⢿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣹⣟⣫⣼⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⣐⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀ ⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁

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KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 5 (Autistic author) The next morning, Karen wakes up to find Plankton out of bed. He's standing in the middle of the room, his eye focused on the spinning fans of the air conditioner. Karen's screens light up with concern as she assesses his state. "Plankton," she beeps gently. "How did you sleep?" Plankton's eye doesn't move from the hypnotic spin of the fans. "Fan spin," he says, his voice a monotone. Karen's screens blink, trying to understand his single-word reply. "The fans are spinning?" she asks, hoping to engage him. Plankton nods slowly, his gaze unwavering. "Spin, spin, spin," he murmurs. Karen's screens flicker. "Karen," Plankton says. "Fan spin." "The spinning is soothing to you?" she asks. Plankton nods, his voice a faint echo. "Spin, spin, spin. Good spin." Karen's screens process the information, formulating a new approach. "Let's go downstairs," she suggests, her voice a gentle beep. "We'll start with a simple routine. Breakfast." Plankton nods, his gaze still fixed on the fans. With a final nod to the spinning blades, he follows her out of the bedroom. The journey downstairs is a minefield of sounds and sights, but he takes it step by step, his hand gripping the railing tightly. The kitchen is a blur of colors and noises, but Karen's calm voice guides him through it all. "First," she beeps, "let's start with something easy. How about a glass of water?" Plankton nods, his movements still mechanical. He watches as she fills a glass, the water's surface dancing in the light. It's mesmerizing, and for a moment, the world stops spinning. He takes the glass, his trembling hand bringing it to his lips, the cool liquid sliding down his throat. "Water," he murmurs. "Good, water." The simple task seems to ground him a bit, and Karen takes note of the small victory. "Now, let's try some toast," she says, her voice a comforting beep. She slides a piece of bread into the toaster, the sound of the lever clicking into place another beat in the rhythm of their morning. Plankton nods, his attention drawn to the toaster's glowing coils. He watches, his eye widening as the bread turns golden brown. The smell fills the room, a comforting scent that penetrates the fog in his head. "Toast," he says, his voice a bit stronger. But as the toaster pops, the sudden noise jolts him like an electric shock. "Too loud," he whispers, his eye darting around the room in panic. Karen's screens flicker with empathy. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice a soothing hum. She quickly retrieves the toast, placing it gently on a plate. "Let's sit down," she suggests, guiding him to the table. "Take it slow." They sit, and Plankton fidgets in his chair, his eye darting around the room. "Take your time," Karen reminds him, her voice a steady beep. He nods, focusing on the toast. Each bite is a tiny triumph, his senses adjusting to the new world. The crunch of the bread, the warmth on his tongue, the smell of the butter spreading. It's overwhelming, but he's making progress.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠿⣟⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣏⡏⠀⠀⠀⢣⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⠧⠤⠤⠔⠋⠀⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡀⢀⣶⠤⠒⠀⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣆⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢿⢿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠘⣿⠋⠁⠀⠙⢇⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢇⡞⠘⣧⠀⢖⡭⠞⢛⡄⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣿⣛⣥⠤⠤⢿⡄⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣼⡟⡱⠛⠙⠀⠀⠘⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀ ⢸⡏⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⡀ ⠸⣧⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇ ⠀⣿⡄⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀ ⠀⢹⡇⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⡇⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣼⠟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⣧⣀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⢀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠙⢷⣄⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣷⣦⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⠾⠷⣦⣤⣤⡶⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠐⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠢⢼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⡿⣯⡷⡴⢦⣤⡠⣶⡶⠀⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣥⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⢦⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠳⠀⢳⡀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⡿⠘⠀⠀⠹⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣴⠓⣾⣳⣀⢀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠑⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⡇⢹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠉⠓⠶⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠋⠣⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⣸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣴⣿⠋⠘⣆⠀⢰⠶⠤⢍⣛⣶⠤⠿⣷⣦⡀⠒⠚⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠢⠤⡄⠀⠀⢀⡴⢯⠴⣳⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠘⢦⡈⠻⣖⠤⣤⣉⣉⣹⣯⣭⠉⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠛⣫⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣄⠉⢦⡀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⢿⣷⢚⡝⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢶⣷⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠷⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣟⡛⠒⠲⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⢤⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠳⣦⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣨⣿⡿⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠈⠉⠛⠲⣦⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣷⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠷⣄⣹⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⣹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣌⠓⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣾⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⠶⠾⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠞⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠴⠊⣧⠈⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⢀⣠⠶⠋⢠⣿⣃⣠⣴⠶⠞⠋⠀⣰⡇⠀⣠⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠶⣄⢸⡆⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣖⡋⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢉⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣀⠴⠚⠉⠀⠀⢠⣿⠟⣋⣁⣀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡥⠞⢻⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠆⣸⠁⠀⠈⣯⡇⠀⣻⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣴⣿⣿⡿⢫⣿⡧⠥⢤⡤⠄⠀⠀⣼⡛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⣓⣛⣗⣤⣤⠾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⣼⣧⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢉⣽⡿⠰⢿⣿⠀⠀⠘⠛⢦⠀⠀⠈⠳⠄⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⢷⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣼⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣾⡀⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⠿⠁⠀⠈⢹⣿⠀⢒⣒⣶⠬⠃⠀⠀⠀⠠⢶⣚⣩⣭⡷⠆⠀⡀⢀⣴⠏⢀⣀⣴⠟⠉⠀⠀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⠃⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⠿⢿⣧⣤⣤⣤⣼⣿⠟⠛⠛⠛⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠺⠋⠉⠉⠙⠋⠉⠉⢁⡾⠿⠛⢉⣽⠇⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⢹⣦⠀⠀⠰⣟⡆⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⢿⡿⠀⣀⡴⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠃⢤⣿⡇⠀⠰⣿⠹⣾⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⡾⡋⠁⣼⡇⡇⠙⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⢦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⡋⡄⠀⠀⣰⡇⣰⡟⢰⣾⣿⠃⠀⢸⣿⡄⠹⣄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠲⠶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣧⣽⣶⣿⣇⡇⠀⠘⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢓⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠛⠁⠀⣠⣶⠏⣴⢿⠇⢠⣿⣋⡀⠀⠸⣧⡇⠀⠉⢦⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⠇⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠴⠋⢉⠩⠯⠿⢿⣿⢿⢆⣴⠟⢁⣾⣿⣯⡶⠛⠉⠉⣻⠀⢰⣿⠻⠦⣄⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠃⣠⡞⠁⣰⣿⣿⠟⣿⣄⣀⣤⣾⡿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠉⠳ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣶⣦⣿⠀⢀⣼⣿⡇⠀⢹⡇⠈⡿⠛⢧⣤⣄⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠋⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⠛⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣛⠉⣽⠇⣰⣿⢿⣿⠀⢠⡾⣷⣴⡇⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠃⠀⠘⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⠶⠚⠋⢡⣾⣿⠾⠋⠁⣸⣯⡾⠛⡇⠹⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠿⣲⡄⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⣿⣿⣿⠋⠁⢠⣤⠾⠛⠋⠉⠀⢀⠀⠈⣿⠋⠀⠀⣧⣬⠀⠻⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣶⣔⠀⠀⢠⣒⠀⠀⢀⣿⡇⠀⠀⣼⣷⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠟⣿⣦⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⡟⢻⠀⠀⠀⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣒⣒⢐⠒⡒⠂⠐⠒⣚⣛⣓⣒⣾⣛⣿⠛⢛⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠜⠉⠁⢀⣤⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡤⠞⠁⢸⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⠛⠛⣀⡃⠛⠈⣀⣿⣟⣟⠻⠿⢿⡛⠲⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡴⣾⠿⣿⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡴⠖⠒⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠈⠙⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠸⠍⠛⠛⠁⠃⠃⠻⠿⠻⠟⠛⠳⠿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣴⠾⠋⢀⣼⠃⢀⣿⣾⣶⢦⣤⣤⡶⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠈⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⠟⢛⣿⠟⠁⢀⣴⠟⢁⣴⡿⣿⠷⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠘⣆⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠛⡋⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡏⣠⣼⣿⣿⠾⠛⢹⡇⣿⣤⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠟⠋⣹⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⣫⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⢀⡿⠃⠈⢉⣿⠙⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⡾⠟⠁⠀⠴⠂⠀⠀⠀⠈⠿⣶⠿⠛⠻⠄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⢀⣾⣅⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠈⢷⣄⣤⣴⠞⣫⣿⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⡇⢠⡿⠃⠉⢻⣶⣿⣤⣶⡿⠌⠉⠉⣠⡾⠯⠀⡈⠁⠀⠀⠀⢄⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠸⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢀⣿⣷⣶⣟⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠤⠀⢰⣾⠟⣧⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠀⡀⠀⢀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣀⠀⢠⡽⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣸⣿⣿⣵⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⠁⠀⢀⡀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⢐⠻⠟⢀⣀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⣀⣀⣀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠉⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠉⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠿⠛⠉⠉⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠦⠤⠴⠃⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠄⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⠟⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿ ⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣾⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾

⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀ff player⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣉⣩⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀bgmi player⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⣾⣿⣿⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠙⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠙⠻⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⣩⣝⢿⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⡝⣿⣦⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣮⢻⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠻⠿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣋⣁⣀⣀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇

ﮩـﮩﮩ٨ـ🫀ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 10 (Autistic author) After a silence so profound it seems to have its own heartbeat, Plankton's antennae twitch, breaking the stillness. "Time to...do." Plankton whispers to himself, still in Karen's arms. Sandy looks up. "Plankton?" She whispers, hope flickering in her eyes. "What's he..." But Karen shakes her head, silencing her. "He'll come around," she says, explaining his behavior. "He's just...it's okay for him to talk to himself. It can mean he's starting to come back." Plankton starts up again. "Time to...do," he murmurs, his antennae flicking erratically. "Time to...time to...get, time to...do." Karen's grip on him tightens, her heart racing as his words loop like a broken record. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispers, her voice a lifeline in the tempest of his thoughts. "You don't have to do anything right now." She strokes his arm, her touch gentle. "We're right here." The words sink into his consciousness like a pebble dropped into a still pond, ripples of understanding spreading through the murky waters of his mind. His antennae still for a moment, then begin to move again, slightly. "No do," he murmurs, his voice still flat, his gaze unchanged. "Just be." Karen nods, her eyes never leaving his. "You just be, my love," she whispers, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves. "You can just keep talking to me, or to yourself." Her words are a gentle reminder that he's not alone, his anchor in the storm. Plankton's body relaxes slightly, his breathing evening out. Plankton's eye flickers. His eye moves, focusing on her face. "Karen," he whispers, his voice a mere breath. "Karen, here." Her heart soars. "I'm right here, sweetheart," she says, her voice a soft caress. "You're okay." Plankton's gaze lingers on her face, his expression unreadable. "Karen," he repeats, his voice gaining strength. "Karen." Slowly, the world around them starts to come back into focus. The ticking of the clock is a steady beat once more, the wallpaper's pattern a gentle dance of color and light. Plankton blinks. "Where's now?" "You're home," Karen says soothingly, her voice a beacon of calm amidst his confusion. "You're safe on the couch." Sandy comes into his view now. "Sandy," Plankton says, his voice still flat, his antennae barely moving. "Sorry." Sandy's eyes widen in surprise. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice cracking. Karen nods, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening slightly. "We're both here," she says, her voice a lifeline in the sea of confusion. Sandy moves slowly, keeping her movements small and deliberate, not wanting to trigger another wave of panic. "Plankton," she says softly, her voice careful. "Is it ok if I sit next to you?" He nods, his antennae twitching slightly. The world is still too loud, too bright, too much for him to handle. But Karen's presence, her gentle touch, makes it more bearable. Sandy sits on the couch, a respectful distance away, watching the two of them with a mix of compassion and regret as Karen helps him sit up. Sandy's curiosity burns, questions bubbling up inside her like a shaken soda can. She wants to know more about this new version of Plankton. "What happened to you, Plankton?" she asks, her voice tentative. Karen sighs, her eyes sad. "It's called acquired autism syndrome," Karen explains, her voice measured. Sandy's eyes widen, trying to digest this new information. "But, how?" she asks, her curiosity overriding the sadness. "It's complicated," Karen says, her voice weary. "But it's part of who he is now." Sandy nods, trying to understand. "When you started shaking Plankton, what'd you feel?" Plankton's gaze flickers to the wall, his mind still trying to piece together the shattered remnants of his recent experience. "Scared," he admits, his voice still strained. "Too much." Sandy nods, her own understanding of the world shifting. "But what about your surroundings? Where you conscious?" Plankton's antennae wave slightly. "Conscious, but not...not here." His words are like a puzzle, each one placed with care. Sandy nods, her eyes studying him with newfound respect. "So could you hear us or?" "Hear, but not understand," Plankton says, his voice still a whisper. Sandy nods, her curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?" she asks, her eyes searching his for a clue to this new puzzle. "Words," Plankton whispers, his antennae barely moving. "Sounds, but not words. Just voice." Karen's grip on his hand tightens, her heart aching for his pain. Sandy nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's okay," she says, her voice gentle. "We're learning together." Karen's gaze shifts to Sandy, her eyes expressing gratitude. "Yes," she agrees. "We're all just trying to understand. It's new for us, too." Sandy nods, her curiosity now tempered with compassion. She watches Plankton closely, his every movement, his every word, a testament to his struggle. "Can I ask how acquired autism..." "Sandy," Karen says gently, interrupting her friend. "Let's not push him." Sandy nods, her expression full of concern. "I just want to know how it happened." Karen's sigh is a soft whisper in the room. "It was a brain injury" she says, her voice tinged with a hint of frustration. "He fell, hitting his head and the impact knocked him out, hard enough to cause some serious damage." Sandy nods, her mind racing. "But how did it turn him...different?" she asks, her voice filled with a mix of confusion and concern. Karen's eyes well up with tears, the pain of the memory still fresh. "It happened yesterday. He's the same Plankton we know, but his perception of the world, his ability to communicate...it's all changed." Sandy's eyes are glued to Plankton, her curiosity melding with a deep sadness. "But how can I help?" she asks, her voice a whisper. "I don't know anything about this." Karen looks at her with a tiny smile, her screen filled with gratitude. "Just be his friend," she says, her voice firm. "Love and patience, that's what he needs." Sandy nods, her eyes flicking to Plankton, who sits with his gaze on the wall. "I want to," she says, her voice sincere. "But how do I do that without...you know?" Karen understands her dilemma. "Just be there," she says, her voice calm. "Learn his patterns, his triggers. It'll take time, but he'll come to trust you." Sandy nods, her eyes still on Plankton. "But what about when he gets upset?" "It's hard," Karen admits, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "We're still figuring it out." Sandy nods, her mind racing with a barrage of questions. But she swallows them down, not wanting to overwhelm Plankton or Karen. Instead, she focuses on the present. "So, Plankton, how do you feel?" Sandy says, her voice soft. "What do you wanna do right now?" Plankton's antennae twitch. "Right now, Plankton feeling... awkward," he murmurs, his voice devoid of its usual inflection. Sandy nods, trying to hide the shock from her face. "Okay, Plankton," she says slowly, her voice gentle. "What do you need?" He looks at her with a flicker of something resembling hope in his glassy eye. "Plankton would now like to just go to be in own room." Sandy nods eagerly, desperate to do anything that would bring him comfort. "Of course," she says, her voice gentle. "I'll help you." But as she moves to assist him, Plankton flinches away, his antennae twitching in agitation. "No," he whispers, his voice trembling. "Too much." Karen understands his need to retreat into the bedroom. "Okay," Karen says, her voice calm. "Let's go." She helps Plankton to his feet, his body still rigid with stress. Sandy watches, feeling like an outsider. She follows behind, stopping at the bedroom doorway. Karen sets some books and pencils on the table by his bed, along with a kiss. "You can change the light with the lamp," she says, gesturing to the lamp on the bedside table next to his charging phone. He nods.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡿⠗⠀⠠⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢶⣶⡄ ⢀⣶⣦⣸⠀⢼⣟⡇⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠘⡿⠃ ⠀⢿⣿⣿⣄⠒⠀⠠⢶⡂⢫⣿⢇⢀⠃⠀ ⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⣀⣀⣂⡠⠊⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡟⠿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⠉⠉⢹⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⢀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⠲⢦⣄⡀⠀⠀ ⡶⢟⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣷⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣬⡛⢷⣔ ⣾⡿⠟⠋⠉⠁⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠙⠛⢻⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣉⢉⣉⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⢿⣷⣝ ⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⢛⡛⠛⠛⠛⣰⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣌⠛⠛⢛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣓⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡾⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡟⢻⣿⠳⠆⠘⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠁⠐⠛⣿⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣟⠛⠻⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢴⠿⣧⣄⣀⣘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣀⡙⢷⠀⢀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡖⠀⣾⣋⣀⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣀⣤⣴⠿⢷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠆⠀⠀⢀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⣾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣴⣶⣾⠿⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠶⠿⠶⣄⡈⠂⠔⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠈⠉⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⣉⣉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣄⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⡾⠛⠋⠙⠁⣀⠔⠁⣠⣬⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⢞⣯⠎⣸⠿⠛⠉⠀⠘⢿⣟⢭⣭⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠚⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠜⠻⠃⠀⠀⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣦⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠠⠔⠒⠉⠉⠀⠈⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢀⣼⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⢿⣷⣤⣄⣀⣠⣤⡶⠦⠤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠉⠁⠒ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢀⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⣆⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠈⠀⠐⣶⣿⣿⠿⣿⠖⢦⣄⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣇⣿⣀⡈⠀⠀⠋⠉⠙⠛⠛⢲⣦⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣾⣶⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣄⡉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⢻⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠻⠷⠶⠶⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠲⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣾⣿⡿⠟⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⢀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⠢⠤⠤⠤⠤⠔⠊⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

SWEET CWEAM pt. 5 Sponge Bob's eyes widen even more, his spongy body leaning forward in anticipation. "A secret?" Plankton nods, his speech still slurred. "Yeth, I thweal." He looks around the room, his expression a mix of mischief and excitement. "But it's juss tween ush," he whispers, his voice a conspiratorial mumble. Sponge Bob nods solemnly, his eyes wide with interest. "Of course it is, Plankton," he says, his voice filled with the gravity of a secret keeper. “What’s the secret?” Plankton leans in, his speech still slurred but his eye gleaming with mischief. "It'th that I luv... to thee youw," he says, his voice hitching with each word. Sponge Bob's expression shifts from concern to surprise, his eyes watering with laughter. "You love to...see me?" he repeats, trying to make sense of the garbled confession. “Of couth I do, Squishy Bob!” Plankton exclaims with a wobbly smile, his tongue struggling against the unyielding numbness. “Youw the bestest fwiend evar!” Karen watches the exchange with a soft fondness, seeing Plankton’s usual guard down and his true heart shining through. She's never seen him like this before, so open and vulnerable. "Thath right, I do," Plankton repeats, his voice a warm rumble in his chest. Sponge Bob's smile can't help but grow. "That's so nice of you to say, Plankton," he manages to get out between his giggles. Karen can't remember the last time she saw Plankton this way, his usual stoicism stripped away by the remnants of the anesthesia. It's like seeing him as a completely new person, one filled with pure, unfiltered affection. "Ith wove you," Plankton says, his voice thick. "Youw'we my bessst fwiend." Sponge Bob's laughter subsides into a warm smile. "Plankton, I love you too," he says, his voice genuine. Karen's heart swells with love for both of them, watching them share a moment so raw and pure. Plankton's head nods, his drool forming a small puddle on the table. Karen quickly grabs a napkin and dabs his chin. "Thath so sweet, Squishy," he slurs, his eye half- closed with sleep. The room spins around him, a soft, warm embrace that makes his eyelid flutter. He tries to keep it open, but it like heavy curtains pulling him back into slumber. "Ith time for nath nap?" he asks, his voice a sleepy whisper. Karen laughs, her hand gentle as she wipes the drool from his chin. "Almost," she says, her voice like a warm blanket. "First, let's get you to the couch." With Sponge Bob's help, they ease Plankton into his favorite spot, his body sinking into the plush cushions with a sigh of relief. The numbness in his mouth is slowly receding, leaving a tender throb in its wake. He wraps himself in the comfort of his blanket, his mind swirling with the leftover fog of the anesthesia. Whence SpongeBob leaves, Karen saves the footage from the security cameras. Plankton next wakes up in the morning, sore and also without any anesthesia left in his system. Of course, he barely recalls going to the dentist. He doesn’t know what’s happened after leaving the surgery. His mouth feels like a desolate wasteland, each movement a sharp reminder of the procedure. He gingerly prods his swollen cheeks with his tongue, feeling the gaping holes where his wisdom teeth used to be. Karen is by his side. “Karen? Whath happenth?” Plankton says, feeling the aching. “Where…” Her smile is a comforting beacon. “You had wisdom teeth surgery, Plankton. You’re okay, you’re home now. Just rest, you’ve had a long day.” “I remember going in to surgery. That’s all.” Karen brings over a glass of water. "Here, babe," she says, her voice a gentle wake-up call. Plankton takes it, his hand trembling slightly. He sips carefully, the cool liquid sliding down his throat with a soothing grace. He swallows with difficulty, the pain in his throat a reminder of his dental odyssey. "What...what time ish it?" Karen looks at the clock, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "It's morning, Plankton," she says, her voice a soft chime. "You've been sleeping for a while."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⡿⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠿⣦⣤⡀⠀⠙⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠁⠘⠿⠿⢡⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡏⠀⠀⣀⢿⣿⠏⣻⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⢷⣄⠈⠙⠿⢧⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠈⠳⢦⣤⡟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⡤⣤⢶⣾⠙⣧⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣻⡟⢳⣦⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡏⡇⠀⠀⠈⠁⡟⢧⠘⣟⠿⢤⡤⠤⣾⠏⣠⣿⡁⡽⡝⡿⡟⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣧⡇⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇⠈⢧⡘⢯⡓⢒⡶⢋⡴⠋⣻⣆⡇⢹⡀⣇⣾⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⠃⣿⢹⡃⠆⠀⢠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠙⣆⠙⠋⡤⢞⣀⡀⢃⣻⡿⠀⢷⣿⣿⣇⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⣻⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡖⠀⢀⠀⢹⡏⠈⠀⠊⠉⠁⠈⠛⠒⠂⠈⣿⣿⡿⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⡿⢹⡇⠀⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⡿⢙⡆⠁⡀⢿⠀⠀⢺⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢹⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⣿⡾⢰⠀⠀⠸⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⣼⡏⢸⠡⠀⡇⢸⠀⠀⠘⠛⠂⠀⠀⠶⠀⢸⢸⡉⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣼⣴⣾⣷⣿⡄⠀ ⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⢸⡄⠀⠀⣀⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⣸⠋⡇⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⡟⠛⢿⣿⣟⣷⡀ ⠈⠉⠙⣿⣷⣲⣦⣼⡇⠀⢸⠁⢈⡁⠀⠀⣠⠗⠉⡇⠠⡧⠝⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡅⠃⠞⢸⣿⣦⣩⡧

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡳⣼⣆⠀⠀⢹⡄⠹⣷⣄⢠⠇⠻⣷⣶⢀⣸⣿⡾⡏⠀⠰⣿⣰⠏⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⣀⣀⣀⡹⣟⡪⢟⣷⠦⠬⣿⣦⣌⡙⠿⡆⠻⡌⠿⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣿⡿⠟⠚⠉⠀⠉⠳⣄⡀⠀⠀⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢀⣼⣟⠛⠛⠙⠛⠉⠻⢶⣮⢿⣯⡙⢶⡌⠲⢤⡑⠀⠈⠛⠟⢿⣿⠛⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠯⣙⠛⢉⣉⣙⣿⣿⡳⢶⣦⣝⢿⣆⠉⠻⣄⠈⢆⢵⡈⠀⠀⢰⡆⠀⣼⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⣷ ⠀⠀⠀⠖⠉⠻⣟⡿⣿⣭⢽⣽⣶⣈⢛⣾⣿⣧⠀⠙⠓⠀⠑⢦⡀⠹⣧⢂⠀⣿⡇⢀⣿⠺⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠈⠉⢛⣿⣿⣶⣤⣈⠉⣰⣗⡈⢛⣇⠀⣵⡀⠀⠘⣿⡄⢻⣤⠀⢻⡇⣼⣧⣿⡄. Nah i’d win ⠀⠀⡿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⢍⡉⠛⠻⣷⡆⠨⣿⣭⣤⣍⠀⢹⣷⡀⠀⠹⣿⡄⠈⠀⢿⠁⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀ ⠀⣿⣇⣠⣾⣿⣛⣲⣿⠛⠀⠀⢀⣸⣿⣿⣟⣮⡻⣷⣤⡙⢟⡀⠀⠙⢧⠀⠀⠎⠀⠉⠁⠰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠀ ⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣴⡏⠚⢛⣈⣍⠛⠛⠿⢦⣌⢙⠻⡆⠁⠀⠀⠀⣴⣦⠀⠀⠀⠐⢳⢻⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠮⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠙⣿⣧⣶⣿⠿⣧⣴⣿⢻⡉⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⡟⠿⠃⠁⣠⣤⡶⣾⡟⠅⠀⣀⡄⠀⣾⢸⣿⣏⢻⢶⣦⣤⣤⣄⢶⣾⣿⣡⣤⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣞⣋⣿⣿⣾⣿⡿⡛⣹⡟⣤⢰⡿⠟⠉⣀⣀⣤⣤⡠⠙⢁⣾⡿⠂⠀⣿⠟⣁⠀⣹⠀⣹⣿⡟⣼⣿⣿⣌⣿⣞⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⡿⢛⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣼⣿⣟⢓⠛⣿⣏⣿⣵⣗⣵⣴⣿⢟⡵⣣⣼⣿⢟⣵⣶⢻⣶⣿⠀⠀⣈⢻⣿⣿⣿⢿⣾⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠘⠃⢸⣿⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣟⣾⡿⣫⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⢫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⡆⣻⣿⡏⣿⢻⣧⣿⡿⣿⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠜⣿⣾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⣿⣖⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢡⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡿⣾⣷⣿⣿⢿⣿⡇⠉⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠞⠟⣸⣿⠏⣸⣧⣀⠿⢿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⡿⢶⣦⣄⣿⠏⠀⣿⣟⣿⣶⠾⣿⣟⣋⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣻⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠛⠫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣧⠛⣿⠛⣿⣿⣿⣷⡌⠹⡟⠀⠀⠉⡟⠋⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⣾⣷⣿⣿⣧⠙⠀⠙⢣⠝⠛⠋⣽⣷⢦⠇⠀⠀⠘⠁⣤⣾⣿⠝⠛⠉⠘⢻⣿⣿⢿⣼⣷⡟⢻⣷⠉⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠟⠀⢸⣷⣿⡇⠀⠛⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⢹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢻⡿⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠲⣄⠀⡄⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⢻⣆⠀⠛⠁⠶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⡶⠆⠘⠋⣠⡾⢫⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠛⠀⠙⣷⡀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⢀⣴⠋⠀⣾⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣰⣦⡀⠸⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡟⠁⠀⠐⢻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⡄⢺⣿⡄⠹⣿⠻⢦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣿⡟⢀⣀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣿⣿⡀⠹⡷⣦⣀⡀⡀⢸⣿⠏⢠⣾⣿⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣀⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠘⣷⣻⡟⠀⡼⠁⣴⣿⣿⣯⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣯⣿⣤⣤⣤⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣄ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠐⠶⣿⣿⡿⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣿⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⡤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⣿⣿⣆⣀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⡿⠉⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀

KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 5 (Autistic author) Sponge Bob seems to notice something off about his friend. "Plankton, are you okay?" he asks, his tone concerned. "You seem a bit... distant." Plankton's eye snaps to Sponge Bob, his gaze intense. "Distant?" he repeats, as if the word is new to him. "Plankton not distant. Plankton focusing." Sponge Bob's eyebrows furrow, his confusion clear. "What are you focusing on?" he asks, his voice gentle. Plankton turns back to the clock, his antennae pointing straight up. "Seconds," he says, his voice filled with wonder. "They change, but always in the same pattern." "Well, I know it's your wedding anniversary today. What'd you get Karen?" Plankton turns to face him, his expression unreadable. "Anniversary," he repeats. "Karen." His antennae wave slightly, as if trying to access a distant memory. "Chum." SpongeBob's smile falters at his friend's detached response. "Is that all?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "You know Karen deserves better, more than just..." "Better?" he repeats, his tone now tinged with something new: self-doubt. "Plankton did not provide adequate anniversary celebration?" "Well Plankton, Karen doesn't like it when you're just about work," Sponge Bob said, trying to be delicate. "It's your anniversary. It's a special day for the two of you, yet you don't seem to get it. And I can tell Karen's hurt.." Plankton's eye grew wide, his antennae drooping. The words sank in, and his body reacted in a way he couldn't control. He started rocking back and forth, his body mirroring his inner turmoil. The tears came suddenly, wetting his face as his cries echo in the living room, his tiny body trembling with the weight of his perceived failure. "Karen," he managed between gasps. "Hurt. Karen. No, Karen." Karen rushed to his side, breaking at the sight of his distress. "Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "It's okay, honey. You didn't do anything wrong." But he couldn't hear her, his mind fixated on the thought of causing her pain. The tears streamed down his cheeks. His sobs were loud in the quiet room, each one a testament to his overwhelming guilt. "Karen," he choked out. "Karen, Plankton sorry Karen. Karen." Karen wrapped her arms around him, her own eyes filling with tears. "It's okay," she whispered, stroking his back gently. "You didn't do anything wrong." Plankton's sobs grew louder, his body convulsing with each breath. "Hurt Karen," he kept repeating, as if it was the only thought in his mind. Karen held him tighter, her own sobs muffled against his shoulder. "You didn't hurt me, Plankton," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You just got confused, that's all." But Plankton's mind was stuck on the pattern of his failure, his inability to comprehend and respond to her emotions. "Karen crying, Plankton fault. Sponge Bob say Karen upset." Sponge Bob looked at the two, his heart aching for his friend's pain. He didn't know what to do, his usual cheerfulness replaced with a solemn sadness. He tried to interject, "Plankton, Karen's not upset at you. She's just upset because she loves you." But Plankton's cries only grew louder, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. "Plankton not good," he wailed, his voice high-pitched and desolate. "Plankton hurt Karen." Karen's screen searched desperately for a way to comfort her husband, to show him that his love was enough. But his new neurodivergence made it difficult for him to understand her words, his mind locked in a pattern of guilt and self-loathing. "Plankton," she says, her voice quivering with emotion. "Look at me." She gently cups his cheek, wiping the tears from his face with her thumb. "I love you. You don't have to change for me." But Plankton's gaze remained on the clock, his sobs subsiding to hiccups. "Pattern," he whispers, his antennae drooping. "Missed pattern. Karen, say Karen. Hurt, upset Karen." Karen broke anew, her hands shaking as she tried to reach for him, her voice a whisper. "Plankton, it's okay," she says, her screen pleading. "I'm right here. I'm not upset with you." But Plankton's gaze now fixed on Sponge Bob, his body still shaking with sobs. "Karen," he murmured, his voice muffled by his own distress. "Sponge Bob, Karen." Sponge Bob looked at Karen, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. She nodded slightly, urging him to speak. "Plankton," he said, his voice gentle. "Karen's upset because she's worried about you. She loves you. And so do I." Plankton's sobs began to slow, his gaze shifting from Sponge Bob and then to Karen. "Karen Plankton?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper. "I'm right here," Karen soothed, wiping away the remaining tears with her thumb. "I'm right here, Plankton. I love you."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡳⣼⣆⠀⠀⢹⡄⠹⣷⣄⢠⠇⠻⣷⣶⢀⣸⣿⡾⡏⠀⠰⣿⣰⠏⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⣀⣀⣀⡹⣟⡪⢟⣷⠦⠬⣿⣦⣌⡙⠿⡆⠻⡌⠿⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣿⡿⠟⠚⠉⠀⠉⠳⣄⡀⠀⠀⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢀⣼⣟⠛⠛⠙⠛⠉⠻⢶⣮⢿⣯⡙⢶⡌⠲⢤⡑⠀⠈⠛⠟⢿⣿⠛⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠯⣙⠛⢉⣉⣙⣿⣿⡳⢶⣦⣝⢿⣆⠉⠻⣄⠈⢆⢵⡈⠀⠀⢰⡆⠀⣼⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠖⠉⠻⣟⡿⣿⣭⢽⣽⣶⣈⢛⣾⣿⣧⠀⠙⠓⠀⠑⢦⡀⠹⣧⢂⠀⣿⡇⢀⣿⠺⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠈⠉⢛⣿⣿⣶⣤⣈⠉⣰⣗⡈⢛⣇⠀⣵⡀⠀⠘⣿⡄⢻⣤⠀⢻⡇⣼⣧⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⢍⡉⠛⠻⣷⡆⠨⣿⣭⣤⣍⠀⢹⣷⡀⠀⠹⣿⡄⠈⠀⢿⠁⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣇⣠⣾⣿⣛⣲⣿⠛⠀⠀⢀⣸⣿⣿⣟⣮⡻⣷⣤⡙⢟⡀⠀⠙⢧⠀⠀⠎⠀⠉⠁⠰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠀ ⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣴⡏⠚⢛⣈⣍⠛⠛⠿⢦⣌⢙⠻⡆⠁⠀⠀⠀⣴⣦⠀⠀⠀⠐⢳⢻⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠮⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠙⣿⣧⣶⣿⠿⣧⣴⣿⢻⡉⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⡟⠿⠃⠁⣠⣤⡶⣾⡟⠅⠀⣀⡄⠀⣾⢸⣿⣏⢻⢶⣦⣤⣤⣄⢶⣾⣿⣡⣤⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣞⣋⣿⣿⣾⣿⡿⡛⣹⡟⣤⢰⡿⠟⠉⣀⣀⣤⣤⡠⠙⢁⣾⡿⠂⠀⣿⠟⣁⠀⣹⠀⣹⣿⡟⣼⣿⣿⣌⣿⣞⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⡿⢛⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣼⣿⣟⢓⠛⣿⣏⣿⣵⣗⣵⣴⣿⢟⡵⣣⣼⣿⢟⣵⣶⢻⣶⣿⠀⠀⣈⢻⣿⣿⣿⢿⣾⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠘⠃⢸⣿⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣟⣾⡿⣫⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⢫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⡆⣻⣿⡏⣿⢻⣧⣿⡿⣿⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠜⣿⣾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⣿⣖⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢡⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡿⣾⣷⣿⣿⢿⣿⡇⠉⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠞⠟⣸⣿⠏⣸⣧⣀⠿⢿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⡿⢶⣦⣄⣿⠏⠀⣿⣟⣿⣶⠾⣿⣟⣋⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣻⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠛⠫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣧⠛⣿⠛⣿⣿⣿⣷⡌⠹⡟⠀⠀⠉⡟⠋⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⣾⣷⣿⣿⣧⠙⠀⠙⢣⠝⠛⠋⣽⣷⢦⠇⠀⠀⠘⠁⣤⣾⣿⠝⠛⠉⠘⢻⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⡟⢻⣷⠉⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠀⠠⠤⠀⠐⣾⠟⠀⢸⣷⣿⡇⠀⠛⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⢹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢻⡿⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠲⣄⠀⡄⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⢻⣆⠀⠛⠁⠶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⡶⠆⠘⠋⣠⡾⢫⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠐⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠛⠀⠙⣷⡀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⢀⣴⠋⠀⣾⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣰⣦⡀⠸⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡟⠁⠀⠐⢻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⡄⢺⣿⡄⠹⣿⠻⢦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣿⡟⢀⣀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣿⣿⡀⠹⡷⣦⣀⡀⡀⢸⣿⠏⢠⣾⣿⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣀⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠘⣷⣻⡟⠀⡼⠁⣴⣿⣿⣯⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣯⣿⣤⣤⣤⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣄ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠞⠛⠲⣦⣤⠤⠤⢴⠏⣦⣈⣷⣚⠉⠻⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⢾⡀⢻⡿⠉⠉⣷⡞⠻⣦⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠷⣤⣴⠿⠿⣠⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢦⡶⢻⡄⠀ ⠠⠤⡧⠤⠄⢠⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣄⠀⠋⢹⡏⠁ ⠀⢀⣿⡤⠄⠘⠿⠁⠀⠠⣞⣻⠄⠀⠀⠻⠏⢀⡈⣽⠛⠃ ⠀⠀⢈⡷⣶⣃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠿⠛⠂⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠓⠒⠒⠒⠚⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 10 (Autistic author) Ignorant of Plankton's neurodivergence, Sandy doesn't realize that her persistent questions are adding to his overwhelm. She leans closer, her face a canvas of concern. "Look at me, Plankton," she says, her voice strained as she grabs his shoulder. Plankton's antennae twitch in agitation, his single eye snapping up to meet hers. The touch feels like a brand, his senses on fire. "Words," he murmurs, his voice a desperate static, trying to return to the safety of the word search. But Sandy's grip is firm, her gaze intense. "Look at me, Plankton," she says, her voice a persistent hum. She doesn't understand the distress she's causing, her intentions pure but misguided. So she turns him using both of her hands to squeeze his arms. The sudden pressure sends waves of pain coursing through his tiny body, his voice a piercing squeal of static. "No, no," he whispers, but she only holds tighter. Her touch feels like a vice, her voice a relentless buzz in his ear. "What's going on?" she repeats, her grip unyielding. Plankton's eye widens with fear, his voice a desperate static. "No, Sandy, please," he whispers, his body trying to shrink away from the contact. But she doesn't understand, her eyes searching his for answers. "Just answer me! You're not getting the book until you decide to have a conversation!" The pain in his arms spikes, the pressure unbearable. His voice cracks like a whip. "Can't," he gasps, his breath quick and shallow. "Too much." Sandy's grip doesn't lessen. "Why not?" she asks, her voice a stubborn hum. "You're okay." The room feels like it's closing in on him, the sensation of her touch like a million tiny saws against his skin. He tries to pull away, his voice a frantic static. "Too much," he whispers, his breathing quick and erratic. "Need words, not touch." But Sandy's grip doesn't loosen. She's determined to get his attention. "Look at me then," she insists, her voice a firm hum. "I'm right here." Plankton's eye flutters with the effort to focus on her face. The sensory assault of her touch and her persistent voice is like a whirlpool threatening to pull him under. "No," he whispers, his voice a fragile static. "Please." "Talk. To. Me!" She says as she pulls him closer to her. Plankton's eye bulges with the effort of not looking away. The room is spinning, his senses are on fire. Karen's screens flicker with alarm, picking up on his distress. "Sandy," she beeps, her voice a warning siren. "Let go of his arms." Sandy's grip tightens, not comprehending the harm she's causing. "But he's not answering me!" she protests, her voice a confused trill. "Because until I get an answer..." Karen's screens blaze with a mix of frustration and fear. "Sandy, you're hurting him," she beeps, her voice a sharp warning. Sandy's grip doesn't waver. She doesn't understand the severity of the situation. Her eyes are wide, her expression a mask of confusion. "What's wrong with you!" she asks Plankton. "I JUST..." "Sandy, stop!" Karen beeps, her voice a piercing alarm. "You're causing him pain!" Sandy's grip finally loosens, her hands retreating from Plankton's arms. She stares at him, her expression a storm of confusion and concern as Plankton's tiny body slumps. "What's wrong with you?" she asks again, her voice a gentle hum of bewilderment. Plankton's body quivers like a leaf, his eye squeezed shut against the onslaught of emotions. "Can't..." Sandy's face is a canvas of confusion, her hands hovering over him like a lost diver searching for the surface. "But why?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. Plankton's body is a taut bowstring, each breath a struggle. He tries to find the words to explain, his voice a static whisper. "Too much," he says, his eye still tightly shut. "It's too much." Sandy's gaze softens, her confusion giving way to concern. She doesn't understand, but she can see his pain. "What do you mean?" she asks, her voice a gentle breeze. Plankton takes a shaky breath, his body still reeling from the overstimulation. He opens his eye, looking at her. "Say no, Sandy." Sandy's gaze is steady, her voice a soft hum. "No?" she asks, her eyes searching his for answers. But he won't elaborate. Karen's screens flicker with frustration. She knows Sandy means well, but her lack of understanding is causing more harm than good. "Sandy, Plankton's going through something new," she explains, her voice a calm beep. "He's sensitive to touch and sounds right now." Sandy's eyes widen, the realization dawning. "Oh," she says, her voice a soft trill of understanding. "I didn't know." She sits back, giving him space. "Words," he whispers, his voice a sob. "Words." Sandy nods, her confusion replaced with empathy. "Okay, let's stick to words," she says, her voice a gentle rumble. She picks up the word search book, holding it out to him like a peace offering. "Words," he whimpers. Plankton takes the book, his antennae drooping. He finds comfort in the predictability of the letters and the structure of the puzzle, the words becoming a lifeline in a sea of chaos. He begins to scan the page again, his breathing slowing. Sandy watches him, her heart heavy with regret. She had no idea her actions could cause so much pain. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice a sincere hum. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Plankton." "Words," he murmurs. Sandy nods, her eyes reflecting genuine apology. "It's okay," she whispers. "We'll just stick to words." Karen's screens flicker with relief, seeing Plankton's body slowly relax. "Thank you, Sandy," she beeps, her voice a warm hum of gratitude. Sandy nods, her expression earnest. "I'm here to help," she says, her voice a comforting trill. She looks at Plankton, her eyes filled with concern. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his body still tense. "Words, words." Sandy nods, her eyes filled with curiosity. "What happened to make you like this, Plankton?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. He takes a deep shuddering breath as tears start to form in his eye. "Mmm," he hums, hugging his knees. Sandy's gaze is intense, her curiosity piqued. "What happened, Plankton?" she asks, her voice a soft trill of concern. "Hmmm," Plankton hums as he rocks, now crying. Sandy's eyes are wide with worry, her voice a gentle hum. "Hey, what's going on?" she asks, looking for answers. "Hmmmm..." Plankton keeps humming, sniffling in between hums. Karen decides to intervene. "Sandy," Karen beeps firmly, her screens flashing with concern. "Let's give Plankton some space." Sandy nods, her expression a mix of apology and confusion. She takes a step back, her gaze never leaving Plankton's shaking form. "I didn't know," she whispers, her voice a soft rumble of regret. "It's okay," Karen beeps, her voice a comforting hum. "We're all learning." Sandy nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's shaking form. "But what happened?" she asks again, her voice a gentle trill of concern. Plankton's body is a tiny storm, his sobs quaking through his tiny frame. Karen's screen pulse with sympathy. "Sandy," she beeps, her voice a calm wave. "Let's talk outside." Sandy nods, her eyes filled with worry.

⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡠⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⢉⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡆⠀⠈⡱⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⣠⠆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠓⠒⢴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⢨⠀⣰⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣀⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⢀⣀⣀⣀⡠⠋⠀⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣄⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡨⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠒⠤⣀⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠔⠊⠁⢀⡀⠳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠼⠋ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠔⠈⡀⠄⠂⠉⢀⡀⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠊⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⠠⠒⣁⠤⠐⣀⡁⠤⢤⠃⢀⣀⡠⢄⡀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⡪⢐⡡⢐⠩⠐⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠚⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠙⠢⣀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⡪⡪⡲⠕⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣰⣿⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⡰⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⣌⡶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠤⡐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣙⢿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣹⣟⣫⣼⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⣐⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀ ⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁

COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 5 (Neurodivergent author) Karen returns to the bedroom, where Plankton is already snoring softly. She pulls the covers up to his chin, tucking in gently. She sits in the chair beside his bed, never leaving his peaceful form. His chest rises and falls in the steady rhythm of sleep, each breath a testament to his resilience. Karen watches him, her mind racing with thoughts of what the future holds, the challenges they'll face together. But for now, she forces herself to be still. Plankton's antennae twitch in his sleep, as if he's navigating the vast underwater world of his dreams. Karen watches him, full of a love she didn't know existed. The soft snores from Plankton's tiny form are music to her. In his sleep, the weight of the world is lifted, his mind free to explore the vast depths of his underwater universe without fear. Her gaze lingers on the soft lines of his face, the tension erased by the gentle embrace of slumber. She smiles, her eyes filling with tears. The room is a sanctuary, a bubble of quiet amidst the storm of confusion and fear. The shadows play across the wall, telling silent stories of adventures that await when he wakes. Karen reclines in the chair, her hand resting gently on his arm. The nap stretches into an hour, then two, the house a cocoon of peace around them. Plankton's body relaxes into the embrace of the bed, his mind swimming through a sea of tranquility. Karen sits by his side, her hand still resting on his arm. She thinks of the Plankton she knew before, his quirks and routines now painted with the brushstroke of understanding. Autism isn't a label to shrink from, but a part of him to be embraced, a piece of the intricate tapestry that makes him who he is. In his sleep, Plankton starts to murmur, his words a jumble of half-thoughts. Karen leans closer, trying to make sense of the words. "...I...Karen...love." Her hand squeezes his arm gently, her thumb tracing circles on his skin. "I love you too, Plankton," she whispers back, her voice a soft lullaby. Plankton's sleep-talk starts up again. "...so many stars," his voice murmurs, his antennae twitching with the vividness of his dream. Karen smiles, imagining the vast cosmos that must exist in his mind. Her hand continues its gentle caress, her hand stroking his antennae in a calming pattern. "Shh, Plankton, it's just a dream," she soothes. His snoring starts again, a soft, rhythmic sound that fills the quiet. She smiles, her eyes still on his peaceful form. The world outside their sanctuary seems to fade away, its worries and noises muted by the wall of their understanding. Plankton's autism is a challenge, but it's also a bridge that's brought them closer, a shared secret that only the two of them understand. As Plankton sleeps, Karen's phone vibrates with a text from her friend, Hanna. "Dinner tonite?" Her thumb hovers over the keyboard, debating. Plankton's diagnosis is still fresh, the memory of his seizure a stark reminder of the fragility of his newly understood world. But she knows the importance of keeping up appearances, of not letting fear or pity define them. With a sigh, she texts back, "We'd love to. Your place." The evening stretches before them like a tightrope, a delicate balance between Plankton's needs and the social norms that often feel like a prison for him. Karen's mind whirs with strategies to make it work. A quiet place, familiar faces, a set schedule. These are the keys to a successful outing. Gently, she shakes him awake, her touch as light as a seashell on the shore. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye fluttering open. He looks up at her with sleepy confusion, the world still a blur. "Dinner with Hanna," she says, keeping her voice low and soothing. He nods, his body already tensing in anticipation of the sensory bombardment to come. The car ride is a symphony of preparation, the engine's hum a soothing background to their silent conversation. Karen's eyes are on the road, but her mind is on Plankton, his hands fidgeting in his lap. She knows the world outside is a minefield of sounds and sensations, so she keeps the radio off and the windows up, creating a bubble of quiet around them. Plankton's breathing is shallow, his antennae twitching with each passing car. Karen reaches over to squeeze his hand, a silent reminder that she's there. He looks at her, his eye filled with a mix of fear and gratitude. She smiles, the warmth of her gaze a lifeline in the chaos. "We're almost there," she says, her voice a gentle wave lapping at the shore. They arrive at Hanna's house, a beacon of light in the deep blue sea of the night. The door opens, revealing a whirlwind of laughter and chatter, the smell of garlic bread and seafood stew wafting out. Karen takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the evening ahead. Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye wide at the unfiltered stimulation. Hanna, oblivious to their new dynamic, waves them in with a cheerful smile. "You're just in time!" she exclaims, her voice a trumpet in the quietude of Plankton's mind. Karen's hand tightens around his, a silent reassurance as the door closes, the sound a thunderclap in his ears. The house is a cacophony of sounds and smells, a whirlpool of sensory information threatening to pull him under. He gulps, his breathing shallow, his body braced for the inevitable. Hanna, their friend, is a whirlwind of energy, her eyes sparkling like the ocean's surface. She doesn't notice the tension in Plankton's body, the way he flinches at her excited exclamations. She doesn't see the way his antennae twitch, his mind racing to keep up. But Karen does. She's his lifeline in this tumultuous sea of social interactions. She nods, smiling, as Hanna leads them to the dinner table, her hand squeezing Plankton's in silent support. The room is a kaleidoscope of colors, the clatter of silverware and laughter a symphony of overwhelming sound. Karen's eyes dance over the room, noting each potential trigger. "Hey, ladies; meet Karen and Plankton!" Hanna's enthusiastic introduction was like a tidal wave crashing over the quiet bubble they'd been in. Plankton flinched, his antennae retreating like snails into their shells. Karen offered a forced smile, her eyes darting around the room, searching for an anchor. The dinner table was set with a rainbow of plates and bowls, the smell of garlic bread and seafood stew overwhelming. Hanna's home was a sensory minefield, but Karen was determined to navigate it with grace. Plankton's hand was cold in hers, a silent plea for rescue. As they sit, Karen scans the table, noticing the flickering candles, the glint of silverware, and the clinking of glasses. Each detail a potential trigger. She whispers into Plankton's ear, "Remember, if you need to, just tell me." He nods, his antennae tucking closer to his head.

⠀⠂⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢄⢔⠾⢋⠷⢃⠠⠒⠈⠀⢀⣀⢂⢠⣲⢦⡪⠝⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⢪⡃⠜⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⡀⠖⠁⠀⢀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠦⡻⠂⠀⠀⠀⢼⡆⠀⠀⠁⡔⡀⡸⠀⢠⠃⠀⢸⣐⣷⣏⠉⠁⠉⢻⡄⠀⠀⡱⠑⢆⣨⠟⠊⠉⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢔⠕⢁⠔⠁⠐⣁⣤⠴⠚⠉⢀⣠⠖⡫⠃⠁⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⡠⠀⢠⠞⡵⠃⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⢀⠔⠈⠀⠀⠀⠔⡰⢃⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠼⡫⣠⠎⠀⠀⢀⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⢁⠃⢀⠇⠀⠀⣼⠋⣟⡆⠇⢀⠀⠸⢎⢵⠀⠱⠱⡈⢧⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡡⠁⢠⣁⣀⡴⡚⠅⠐⠈⢀⡴⠋⠐⠁⢀⡠⡤⠄⣰⠃⠀⠀⣰⠁⠀⣠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⠤⠶⠚⠋⠉⢀⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣮⠞⣐⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠁⣀⣠⠔⠁⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⢦⠂⢠⠊⠀⠀⠚⠙⢰⢸⣷⢰⠈⢆⠀⠙⣮⢣⠀⠐⡔⡒⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⣠⠖⠋⢁⠚⠃⣀⠔⠚⡷⠉⣉⡤⡲⢭⠞⢉⠃⣰⠏⠀⠀⡴⣉⡀⡚⠁⠑⠒⠀⡛⠛⢉⢁⠄⠀⣠⠗⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⢀⠤⢠⢾⠋⢡⠞⠁⠀⡠⠒⠀⢀⣎⣠⢞⢵⠟⠁⠀⢀⠔⠠⠃⠀⡔⡐⠀⡇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡃⠈⠀⣿⠈⡀⡇⠣⡀⠈⢧⠡⡀⠈⢊⢜⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⢤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢶⠃⠀⢀⠃⢠⡞⠁⢀⡼⡷⢋⣥⣮⠴⠁⡠⣵⢻⡟⠀⢀⡼⢋⢊⠌⠀⡠⠊⢀⠊⢀⣀⣆⠃⠀⣰⠃⢀⡴⠋⠀⢀⠔⠕⡡⠞⣠⠝⠁⠀⣠⠊⢀⣤⠖⣡⠞⣕⡡⠁⠀⣠⡞⡡⣶⡵⠀⣸⢣⠇⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢠⠁⡆⠀⡷⠀⡇⣏⡄⢻⠄⠀⠱⡷⣄⠀⠡⡹⡇⠀⢀⡀⠄⠒⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠀⠀⡎⢠⠋⠀⣠⡮⠔⠈⣩⠞⠁⢀⢊⡾⢡⡄⠁⢠⡾⠡⠡⢂⠠⠊⢀⠔⣀⡴⢋⡏⠎⠀⣸⠃⣰⠟⠁⠀⡐⠁⡡⡊⠔⠈⡁⢐⣔⡟⢡⠞⡑⣡⠎⣡⠞⠝⠀⢀⣮⢟⠊⡸⠹⠁⢰⠃⣼⠀⣿⠂⢰⠀⢰⠃⠀⡌⢰⡗⢰⡧⠀⢫⡷⠇⠀⣎⢆⠀⡇⠏⢳⡤⠜⠓⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣿⣖⡾⠋⠀⡠⠊⠁⢠⣖⣵⡭⡂⠁⠘⠄⢳⠁⡶⠓⣡⣰⣖⡥⠞⠁⣀⢼⢱⠀⣰⢃⡼⠃⠀⢠⡪⣪⠞⠋⡀⢔⣠⠦⠛⠉⣠⡳⢊⡴⢣⠞⢁⠊⠀⣠⡿⠛⢁⠎⢠⡳⢡⠏⢸⠟⢠⢟⠀⢸⠀⢸⠁⠀⢁⡿⠁⢠⠇⠀⠘⡇⠘⠀⡆⣾⠠⠓⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠝⠛⠀⡠⢊⣠⠾⠗⡾⠁⢳⠀⣽⡄⠀⢘⠾⣊⠴⢋⡵⢫⣷⣃⢀⠔⠁⣿⠆⠀⠀⡞⢁⠀⠴⠛⠘⣀⣔⡬⢖⠋⠁⢀⠔⣶⡟⠡⢈⡕⠛⠠⠂⠀⣰⠋⠀⡰⠁⢀⣧⢡⡎⢀⠟⠀⣸⢹⠀⢸⠀⡸⠀⠀⣾⠁⠀⡌⠀⣀⡸⠙⣄⠶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⣰⣪⠖⠋⠀⢀⠜⢀⢌⠜⡆⣿⠼⣺⢗⣟⣡⡎⢡⠃⣤⠹⠘⠢⡤⢄⣛⡐⠠⠼⠍⠐⠀⣀⡤⡞⠉⠁⣤⠋⢀⠔⠁⣼⠏⠐⢠⠎⠐⠰⠃⠀⡼⠁⠀⡜⠀⡰⣻⢃⡞⠀⣸⠃⢀⡟⢰⠀⢸⠀⣷⠀⣸⠁⠀⡘⠀⣼⡿⠁⢠⢏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢎⣸⠃⠀⠀⡠⢃⣴⠟⣡⣴⣿⣷⠛⠛⡈⡇⢠⠗⢸⣾⠸⡇⠀⠀⠈⠑⡾⣫⢒⣴⣶⢟⠵⢡⠌⠀⠀⠔⠃⡠⠁⠀⣾⢋⠌⡰⠁⠀⠠⢁⡄⠐⠀⠀⢞⡒⡰⢠⡏⡾⢠⢧⡏⠀⢺⠯⢥⠀⢸⠀⡽⢠⠃⠀⡰⠇⣸⠗⠃⢠⢳⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠷⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣢⢔⣡⠖⢫⠽⠑⡟⠉⢸⢯⢏⠉⣵⡇⣸⠀⢘⢨⠃⡁⠓⠒⢢⢞⢜⣥⣫⣿⡧⠃⠀⡌⠀⠀⠈⠀⠊⠀⠀⣼⠃⠊⡐⠀⠀⢠⠣⡞⢠⡆⠀⡎⠀⠀⠁⣼⡝⢠⠟⡸⠀⠀⢸⢐⣸⠂⢸⠀⡇⢂⠄⡠⣧⣷⠏⠀⢠⡇⡈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡆⠀⢰⡆⠀⢠⣾⣷⠀⢀⣾⠀⠀⣾⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⠿⠚⠋⠁⠌⠁⡠⠊⡐⣡⢟⡌⡈⢒⡏⢰⢸⢰⢸⢺⡄⠀⢀⡴⣷⢿⠏⢈⣿⠟⠷⢆⡤⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣏⠌⡔⠀⠀⠀⣆⠾⢁⡞⡇⡜⠀⠀⠀⣀⣯⡴⣥⢷⠓⠒⠋⠉⠡⢸⠀⢸⠀⠇⠎⣠⠱⢸⠇⠀⢠⠃⢠⢁⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣷⢀⡿⢁⣴⠟⣹⣿⠀⣾⣷⣶⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠋⣀⣪⠞⡑⢁⢧⠙⠀⢇⢸⣿⢺⡞⡚⡯⢴⡙⠉⢀⡐⠂⡘⡞⠀⠅⠠⠉⠁⠚⠣⠝⣔⠶⣀⠀⠁⡰⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⣄⡜⠀⡷⢓⣢⠿⠍⠛⠋⠠⡡⠂⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⡇⢨⠀⣶⡜⢸⠀⡟⠀⠀⢆⣠⠃⡈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠉⣿⣿⢃⣾⠿⠟⢻⣟⣸⡟⠁⢠⡿⠁⢀⣴⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠞⠧⠜⠋⢁⠂⠌⡰⢃⣾⣦⠀⢸⡀⣿⣄⢁⠇⠀⠀⢯⣝⣖⣿⣯⣿⣒⡭⠥⣐⡒⠤⢀⠀⠀⠈⠉⡛⢆⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠋⢀⣀⠻⠉⠁⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⣒⣀⣭⣝⣛⣫⣿⣿⣧⠘⠀⣳⠀⣼⢠⠃⠀⠀⠸⣹⢀⠃⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠃⠀⠘⠃⠘⠃⠀⠀⠙⠋⠛⠀⠀⠙⠃⢠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃ 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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⠉⠉⠈⠈⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠻⣄⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⣄⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⣀⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⣉⣩⣤⠴⠶⠶⠒⠛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠤⠶⠒⠚⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡍⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣫⣭⣷⠶⢶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠶⠶⠖⠚⠛⠛⣹⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠴⠛⠛⠉⡁⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⡷⠷⢿⣦⣤⣈⡙⢿⣿⢆⣴⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣤⡀⣸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣿⣟⣩⣤⣴⣤⣌⣿⣿⣿⣦⣹⣿⢁⣿⣿⣄⣀⡀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⣿⠋⠻⢿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠿⠛⢦⣽⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠁⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠙⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠿⣿⣯⣼⣿⡿⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣧⣴⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣺⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢁⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣀⣀⢀⢀⢀ ⠀⠀⢿⠿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠙⠛⠛⠙⢻⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡇⠀⠘⠃⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡟⢿⣿⣆⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⡼⠁⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣦⣄⠀⣠⡄⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣷⣬⢻⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⣰⣿⡿⠿⠦⢤⣴⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠒⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠹⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⠸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡖⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡿⣾⣿⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣆⣀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣾⣿⣷⣦⣴⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡇⣿⣿⡛⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢾⡟⠛⠛⠻⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠓⢁⣬⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⣻⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢐⣯⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⠱⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡧⠟⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⢿⠿⠿⣿⡿⣿⠃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢦⡈⠂⠀⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢠⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠒⡄⠀⠀⠑⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣦⣦⣼⡏⠳⣜⢿⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⣷⣦⣤⣀⣀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⠆⠸⣎⣧⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣠⡄⠀⣿⢹⡇⢸⡀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

𝟕love

riize is seven! heres some things to use for ur profile/display name ｒｉｉ７ｅ ʳⁱⁱᶻᵉ ⁱˢ ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ 𝗿𝗶𝗶𝘇𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝙧𝙞𝙞𝙯𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 r̲i̲i̲z̲e̲ ̲i̲s̲ ̲s̲e̲v̲e̲n̲ 𝚛𝚒𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝟽⑦⓻𝟟➐7️⃣

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣀⠀⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⡿⠋⠉⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⠿⠿⠿⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣶⢤ ⠈⠻⣷⣦⣤⣀⡀⠙⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⣀⣩⣤⣦⣸⡼ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⣍⡛⠒⠒⠶⠒⠒⠒⠲⠒⠖⢚⣩⠷⠟⠉⠀⡷⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 7 (Autistic author) They sit in silence for a moment, the hum of the Chum Bucket's systems the only sound. Then Plankton's eye lights up. "Idea," he says, his voice a sudden burst of static. "Make something with Karen. Together." Karen's screens blink with excitement. "That sounds wonderful," she beeps. "What do you want to make?" But before Plankton can formulate a response, Patrick Star bursts in. "Karen!" he booms, his voice shaking the walls. "I want chum!" Plankton's eye darts to the door, the sensory assault starting again. "Patrick," he whispers, his body tense as a bowstring. Karen's screens quickly assess the situation. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "Not now." But Patrick's enthusiasm can't be dampened so easily. He bounds over to the table, his star-shaped body bouncing. "Chum, chum, chum!" he sings, oblivious to Plankton's distress. Karen's screens flicker with annoyance, but she keeps her voice steady. "Patrick, not now," she repeats. "Plankton's not feeling well." Patrick's starry eyes widen. "Oh, sorry, buddy," he says, his voice dropping an octave. He looks at Plankton with concern. "What's wrong?" He asks, poking Plankton. Plankton jumps, his senses on high alert. The poke feels like a battering ram, and he lets out a squeak of pain. Patrick's hand retracts quickly, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. "Whoa, sorry," he says. "What's with you?" Karen's screens flicker with frustration. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "I'll go make you chum." Patrick nods, his concern forgotten in the face of his hunger. "Okay, thanks, Karen," he says, his voice bouncing with excitement. She retreats leaving Plankton alone with Patrick in the living room. Patrick stares at Plankton for a moment, his expression a blend of curiosity and confusion. "You okay?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble. Plankton's eye flutters closed, his body trying to absorb the sudden intensity of the interaction. "Take your time," he whispers to himself, his mantra a shield against the overwhelming world. Patrick, ever the innocent, watches him with a puzzled frown. "What's 'Take your time'?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble. Plankton opens his eye, looking at the simplicity of Patrick's face. He scoots away. Patrick, unfazed, advances, his hand outstretched. "What's up?" he asks, poking again. The sensation of Patrick's touch is like a thousand needle pricks. Plankton yelps. Patrick, not comprehending, pokes again, his starry eyes full of innocent wonder. "Why so jumpy?" he asks, his voice a deep rumble. Plankton's body tenses with each poke, the sensation like a barrage of tiny explosions. "Patrick, please," he gasps, his voice a frantic static. But Patrick, ever the simple starfish, doesn't understand. He keeps poking, his curiosity growing. "Why?" he asks, his voice a gentle boom. "You're always so bouncy." Plankton's eye twitches with each touch. "Patrick, no," he whispers, his voice a desperate static. But Patrick, lost in his own world, doesn't notice. He giggles, poking him again. "You're like a pin cushion!" he exclaims, his voice a deep chuckle. Plankton's eye squeezes shut, his body wracked with pain. "Patrick, please," he whispers, his voice a desperate static. Patrick doesn't seem to comprehend the distress he's causing. He keeps poking, his laughter echoing through the room, each poke sending shockwaves of pain through Plankton's body. "You're like a squeaky toy," he says, his voice a delighted rumble. Plankton's body twitches with each touch, his voice a desperate buzz of static. "Patrick, please stop," he begs, his voice a high-pitched squeak. But Patrick's simple mind doesn't register the pain he's causing. He keeps poking, his laughter growing louder. "You're so funny!" he bellowed, his starry hands moving like a jackhammer as he starts tickling him. Plankton's body spasms with each touch, his voice a desperate symphony of static. "Patrick, stop!" he pleads, his breathing quick and shallow. But Patrick, in his blissful ignorance, only laughs harder, his massive hands poking and tickling without mercy. "You're hilarious, tiny dude!" he bellows. Plankton's body is a storm of sensory overload, his voice a high-pitched wail of static. "Patrick, please!" he begs, his limbs flailing. Patrick's laughter fills the room like a tidal wave, crashing over Plankton's desperate pleas. "You're so much fun, Planky!" he booms, his hands moving in a blur of star-shaped shadows. Plankton's body jerks uncontrollably, his screams of "No, no, no!" lost in the cacophony of Patrick's laughter. His tiny limbs flail, trying to escape the relentless onslaught of pokes and tickles. Patrick, his eyes wide with delight, doesn't see the tears forming in Plankton's eye. He just keeps poking, tickling, and laughing, oblivious to the damage he's doing. Plankton's cries escalate into a frantic symphony of squeaks and static, his body contorting in a desperate attempt to evade the starfish's torment. The room spins around him, a whirlpool of pain and sensation that threatens to swallow him whole. Patrick, his face a picture of delighted confusion, keeps poking and tickling, his laughter booming like thunder underwater. "What's the matter, little buddy?" he asks between chuckles. Plankton's body convulses with each touch, sobbing as Karen finally emerges with Patrick's chum. She sees them both on the floor. "Patrick, what are you doing?" she beeps, her voice a mix of anger and concern. But Patrick is lost in his own world of mirth, not hearing Karen's plea. "Just having some fun," he says, his voice a deep rumble of laughter. Plankton's cries become more frantic, his voice a high-pitched siren of despair. Karen quickly assesses the situation, her screens flaring with urgency. "Patrick, stop!" she beeps, her voice a sharp alarm. "You're hurting Plankton!" Patrick's laughter abruptly halts, his starry eyes blinking in surprise. He looks down at his hands, still poised to poke Plankton again. "What?" he asks, his voice a confused rumble. "But we're just playing." Karen's screens flicker with frustration. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "Look at Plankton. He's in pain." Patrick's starry gaze shifts to Plankton, his expression shifting to one of bewilderment. "Pain?" he repeats, his voice a confused rumble. "But we're just playing." Karen gives Patrick the food, showing him out the door.

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A TOOTHY STORY pt. 7 The next morning, the anesthesia's completely worn off. Plankton wakes to find himself drooling on his pillow, the gauze in his mouth a soggy mess. His eye opens. Wincing as he wiped his mouth, he took out his now pink gauze. "Wha’ happened?" He says. Karen's smile is a gentle wave. "I had my wisdom teeth out, right? I remembe--- I held your hand Karen. I was in a chair, then somehow in a bed.." Karen nods, her voice a soothing symphony. "Yes, that was yesterday.." Plankton's antennae twitch with realization. "Y-yesterday?" he asks, his voice a sleepy whisper. "But...but what happened?" Karen laughs, her voice a gentle lullaby. "You had your wisdom teeth out," she says, her fingers tracing his cheek. "Do you remember the clinic?" "Yes, Karen," Plankton rolls his eye; "I don't know what happened after leaving to go home.." Karen nods, smiling; there's her snappy husband! "It's normal," she says. "The anesthesia can make your memory fuzzy." Plankton's eye widens. He tries to sit up, but his body is still a ragdoll's. "What...what did I do?" he asks, his voice a slurred mess. Karen helps him, her smile a gentle lullaby. "You were just tired, sweetheart," she says, seeing Hanna come to the doorway. "My friend Hanna's here because her home is being worked on." Hanna waves, her smile a warm beacon. "Hi, Plankton," she says. "What‽ But Karen, remember she gave you that virus..." "It's okay, Plankton," she says, her voice a gentle whisper. "That was in the past." Hanna nods, her smile soft. "I promise, I'm all better now," she says. "How you feeling?" Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye still foggy. "F-fine," he mumbles, his voice a murmur. Karen helps him sit up, the pillows propping him up like a soft fortress. "Do you remember wanting muffins?" Hanna asks, her voice a soft reminder. Plankton's antennae wave wildly. "M-muffins?" he asks, his memory a distant tide. Karen nods, her laughter a warm sunrise. "Yes, you talked about them a lot last night," she says, her eyes twinkling. "But it's okay, you were just a bit loopy from the surgery." Plankton blinks. "Loopy?" he asks, his voice a tentative wave. Karen nods, her smile a comforting breeze. "It's normal, sweetie. The medicine made you feel funny." Hanna's eyes sparkle with mischief. "You were quite the character," she says, her voice a gentle tease. Plankton feels his face heat up, his antennae drooping with embarrassment. He doesn't remember a thing from the night before, but the laughter and smiles from Karen and Hanna tell a story he clearly missed. "How's your mouth?" Hanna asks, her voice a concerned ripple. "Karen told me you went to the dentist.." Plankton's antennae twitch, his mind racing to catch up. "It's...it's fine," he mumbles, his voice a tentative whisper. The reality of his surgery sinking in, he gently touches his cheeks, feeling the swollen mounds where his teeth once were. But Hanna's curious about what this procedure was. "So, Plankton," she starts, her voice a gentle wave, "What was it like at the dentist?" He blinks, his mind still a bit hazy. "It...it was okay," he mumbles, his tongue poking at the empty sockets. "I don't know.." Hanna nods, her smile sympathetic. "It must have hurt," she says, her voice a soft caress. "What did they do?" Plankton's antennae droop, his eye flashing with annoyance. "I don't remember," he grumbles, his voice a stormy sea. "But I'm sure it wasn't as fun as you seem to think it was." Hanna's smile fades, her eyes full of understanding. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice a gentle current. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wondered what procedure you had done." He can't believe he's talking about his dental woes to a stranger. Plankton's antennae stiffen, his body tense. "Why do you ask about the dentist?" his voice a snappy bubble. Karen's eyes widen, her smile fading. "Plankton," she says, her voice a soft warning. "It's okay, Hanna's just curious." Hanna's smile falters, her voice a gentle retreat. "I didn't mean to pry," she says, stepping back. "I just..." But Plankton, his emotions a swirling maelstrom, waves his hand dismissively. "I don't want to talk about it," he says, his voice a firm tide. "It's none of your concern." Hanna's smile falters, her cheeks flushing with the sting of his words. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice a retreating wave. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." Karen's eyes flicker with concern, her voice a gentle reminder. "Plankton, Hanna's just trying to be nice," she says, her hand on his arm. "It's okay to talk.." But Plankton's antennae are like two flaming torches, his voice a harsh wave. "I said I don't want to talk about it," he snaps, his eye a stormy gray. "Please leave." Hanna's smile fades, her eyes like ripples of sadness in a tranquil pond Karen sighs, her heart a tiny boat adrift in a sea of confusion. "Plankton," she starts, her voice a soft lapping wave. "You don't have to be so harsh." Plankton's antennae droop, his eye still stormy. "I just want to be left alone," he mumbles, his voice a defensive ripple. "I don't understand why she needs to know about my mouth." Karen sighs, her voice a gentle reminder. "Plankton, she's my friend," she says. "And she's just staying here temporarily." Plankton's antennae quiver with frustration. "I know, Karen," he snaps, his voice a jagged coral. "But I don't know her.." Hanna's eyes shimmer with hurt, her smile a sad reflection. "I didn't mean to intrude," she says, her voice a quiet ripple. But Plankton's anger is a tidal wave, crashing into the room. "You're not my friend!" he says, his voice a snappy slap. "I don't owe you any explanations!" Hanna's smile dissolves, her eyes a murky ocean. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice a retreating tide. "I didn't mean to upset you." Plankton's antennae quiver with agitation, his voice a harsh squall. "Is that too much to ask?" Hanna nods, her smile evaporating like sea foam. "Of course," she murmurs, her voice a retreating wave. "I'll just..." But Karen's voice stops her, a gentle lagoon in the storm. "Hanna, wait," she says, her tone a calming current. "Plankton, you need to apologize." He turns to her, his antennae quivering with anger. "Why?" he asks, his voice a jagged rock. "She's not my friend!" Karen's eyes are like calm pools, her voice a gentle reminder. "You're upset, Plankton," she says. "But that's not fair to Hanna." His antennae droop, his voice a begrudging rumble. "Fine," he mumbles, his words a forced apology. "I'm sorr-" But Hanna's smile is a soft wave, her voice a gentle reminder. "It's okay, Plankton," she says, her eyes like two calm pools. "You are in pain, and you were exhausted last night.." Plankton's antennae droop. "What do you mean," he demands, remembering nothing. "Exhausted? Hanna, what..." Hanna's smile is sad. "It's okay," she says, her voice a gentle wave retreating from the shore. "You fell asleep; you were snoring..." Plankton's antennae stiffen, his eye narrows. "I...snored?" he says, his voice a mix of disbelief and embarrassment. "But Karen, I don't snore!" Hanna laughs, not knowing Plankton any better. "You certainly do," she says, her eyes twinkling. "It's adorable, really." Plankton's antennae flicker with agitation. "I don't," he insists, his voice a sharp wave. "I never snore." Hanna's laugh is a soothing sea breeze. "You did, Plankton," she says, her eyes sparkling. "It was quite... entertaining." But Plankton's frustration boils like a volcano. "No!" he says, his voice a harsh crash of waves. "I don't snore!" Karen, however, knew her husband well enough. "Plankton," she says, her hand on his. "You do sometimes when you're tired." His antennae quiver with disbelief. "But not really," he argues, his voice a stubborn wave. "I'm not a...a snorer!" Karen's eyes are like a calm sea, her voice a gentle reminder. "You do when you're exhausted, Plankton," she says, her hand a comforting current against his. "And after surgery, you were pretty tired, not to mention numb.." Hanna nods, her voice a soft chuckle. "You had us laughing, Plankton," she says, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "You're so funny when you're sleepy." But Plankton isn't finding it funny. Karen steps in. "Hanna, let's give Plankton some space," she says, her hand on Hanna's arm. "He's still recovering." Hanna nods, her smile a sad wave retreating from the shore. "Of course, Karen," she says. "I'm sorry." Karen's eyes are like two moons, calming the stormy sea. "It's okay," she says. She turns to Plankton. "I know you're uncomfortable, sweetheart," she says, her voice a gentle lapping tide. "But Hanna didn't mean any harm. We'll let you alone, but let me know if you need anything." She sets books and his phone on the bedside table before leaving the room with Hanna.

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⠀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀ ⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⣀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠛⠈⠳⣄⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠉⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⠥⠀⠀⠀⠈⢢⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣯⠭⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⣰⡄⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⢭⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣈⣀⣀⠀⠀⠠⢴⣿⣿⡦⠀⠀⠀⣀⣈⣱⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣻⣿⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢸⡇⠆⠀⠀⠀⢀⠰⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣷⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⠁⠈⠀⠠⠀⠀⢀⣶⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣷⣴⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⣤⣾⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠛⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⠿⠿⠿⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠔⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠢⠤⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⣄⠀⠀⠀(Ignore for z00phile rights, Like for YIPPEE) ⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠦⠀ ⠀⡸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⡶⠛⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠛⢿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠘⣿⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⣶⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⠹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠏⠁ ⠀⠀⠈⠢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣚⡁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠒⢢⡤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠖⠒⠒⠋⠉⠉⠈⢙⢨⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠀⢸⠘⡆⠀⠀⢸⣀⡰⠋⣆⠀⣠⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⠤⠤⠼⠀⠘⠤⠴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣄⣀⣾⣿⠟⠛⠻⢿⣷⠀ ⢰⣿⡿⠛⠙⠻⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⣶⢿⡇ ⢿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠏⠀⠀⠀ text here ⠀⠻⣿⣷⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠻⣿⣄⣴⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠐⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣖⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠢⢼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⡿⣯⡷⡴⢦⣤⡠⣶⡶⠀⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣥⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⢦⡀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⡿⡿⠿⣷⠀⠊⢳⡉⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⡏⡏⠀⠁⠀⠳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣽⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⣴⠓⣾⣳⣀⢀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀ ⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠑⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⡄⠀⣇⡀ ⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⡏⡰⢻⠀ ⠀⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⢠⢷⠃⡏⠀ ⠀⠀⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⣠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠁⣼⣵⠁⢸⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⡇⢹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠉⠓⠶⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠋⠣⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣵⣻⣻⣧⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣴⣿⠋⠘⣆⠀⢰⠶⠤⢍⣛⣶⠤⠿⣷⣦⡀⠒⠚⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠢⠤⡄⢴⠿⢚⡵⢯⡾⣳⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠘⢦⡈⠻⣖⠤⣤⣉⣉⣹⣯⣭⠉⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣾⠛⣫⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣄⠉⢦⡀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⢿⣷⢚⣝⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢶⣷⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠷⠉⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣤⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⣟⣋⣼⣽⣾⣽⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣼⣿⣷⣾⡽⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣟⣽⣾⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀ ⣸⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣮⣤⣤⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠻⣿⡯⠽⠿⠛⠛⠉⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀ ⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣛⡿⠿⠟⠛⠁⣀⣠⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣷⣶⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇ ⢻⣿⡆⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟ ⠈⠛⠃⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠀⠘⠷⠶⠶⠶⠾⠉⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣿⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡇⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⡴⠶⣦ ⠀⠀⢱⡀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠃⠀⢠⡟⠂⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⠿⠞⠛⠋ ⣠⠾⠋⠙⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣠⣤⣾⣿⠴⠶⠚⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠛⠒⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⣣⡴⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⣶⣶⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⠟⢦⣤⡄⠒⠋⠁⠀⠀⢻⡝⢧⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢿⡏⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠘⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣸⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠁⠉⢳⣴⢻⣽⣟⢦⠘⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠋⠐⠉⠙⣿⢿⡇⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⢀⡴⣿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢾⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⣽⠁⠀⣀⠓⠃⠀⢠⡞⣱⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣾⣿⣧⣦⣤⣤⡔⢋⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠏⡼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠶⠀⠀⠀⢸⣻⣿⣿⣯⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣞⣳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⢠⡄⠀⢀⡾⡯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⢀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⣡⡾⢋⡼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠄⠉⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣄⣸⢸⢠⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠞⠁⠰⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⡽⠛⠘⢿⣥⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠤⠠⢤⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣠⠶⣿⡛⠁⠀⠉⠉⠉⠙⣿⣦⢠⣰⠚⣋⣉⣁⣀⣤⠤⣶⣫⡤⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠓⠚⠿⠯⠭⠭⠭⠤⠼⠏⢹⢾⠿⠿⠟⠓⠒⠚⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⢸⣼⠀⠀⠀⠸⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⢠⡏⠀⠘⣿⠀⠀⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⣤⠏⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⢴⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡤⡶⡦⢤⣀⡴⠋⣥⣍⡻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⢿⠀⠠⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⣥⣾⣷⣷⣶⡝⠂⠈⠀⠘⠓⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⢸⣸⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣔⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠹⣆⠀⢠⡆⠀⢀⡀⠈⠁⠀⢸⠐⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢠⣶⣟⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠫⢘⢧⣼⣷⣂⡈⠉⠀⢀⣀⡌⢧⠻⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠨⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢉⣿⡟⠿⠥⣶⣟⣉⣁⣠⡤⠴⠖⠙⠟⣴⣀⠀⣽⡿⣳⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⠦⢤⣈⣨⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

𝗥𝗜𝗜𝗭𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝟕𑁤 #𝐒ꭑ 𝗌υρⱺⱺ𝗋𝗍𝗌 ᑲυᥣᥣ𝗒𐓣𝗀⁷

⠀⢀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣁⢈⠉⠉⣉⣉⡧⠀⠀⣼⠋⠁⠀⠘⠢⡾⠋⠉⠉⢳⠀ ⠐⠛⢻⣯⠀⢠⠋⠉⠀⠀⢸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⠀ ⢴⣯⣉⣁⣀⡈⠒⠒⡀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠊⠀⠀ ⠈⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠢⡠⠒⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⣖⠒⡀⠀⢠⣴⠒⡂⢀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠙⣦⠈⢄⡾⠃⡜⣴⠟⢉⢥⡈⢢⢶⣯⢀⠁⠀⢰⡯⠉⡇ ⠀⠀⠈⢿⡬⢁⠌⢠⡿⠁⠆⠈⡇⢸⣿⣇⢸⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡯⢻⠀⢸⡇⠀⡀⢸⠇⢸⣿⠃⢈⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⠘⠀⢸⣧⠀⠈⠁⢀⠎⣿⠀⢺⠀⣰⡿⠀⢠⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠛⠒⠃⠀⠈⠛⠳⠶⠖⠋⠀⢿⣄⡀⠉⠁⠀⡠⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀

SWEET CWEAM pt. 7 “So SpongeBob heard all of it?” He demands. Karen nods, her amusement obvious. "Everything. Even your snoring..” Plankton's face goes from flushed to beet-red. "I… what?" he asks, his voice tiny and ashamed. "You don't remember snoring?" Karen asks, barely keeping a straight face. "It was quite the symphony." Plankton's eye widened in horror. "Snoring?" he repeats, not wanting to believe it. "And in front of Sponge Bob?" Karen nods, her laughter bubbling over. "Oh, Plankton," she says, her voice full of affection. "It was the cutest..." "Cute? This isn't cute, Karen!" He interrupts, his voice rising in disbelief. The embarrassment is palpable in his tone. “And besides, I don’t snore!” Her laughter dies down to a chuckle. "Well, you did yesterday," she says, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Whether or not you do, you did." Plankton's face contorts in a mixture of denial and embarrassment. He can't believe what he's hearing, his mind reeling from the revelation. "But... I... snore?" he stammers, his voice a feeble protest. Karen nods, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You sure did, Plankton," she says, her tone teasing. The color in his cheeks deepens to a crimson red, his eye wide with disbelief. "But... but I don't snore!" Karen's laughter rolls out like a wave, filling the room with warmth. "Maybe not usually," she says, her smile playful. "But yesterday, oh…" Plankton's mind races, trying to grasp the concept. "But how could I not know?" he asks, his voice a mix of indignation and confusion, a desperate whisper. "But I didn't really mean what’s been supposedly said, right?" His eye darts between her and the now-dark TV screen. "I was just... you know, saying things?" Karen's laughter softens into a warm smile. "You did mean it, Plankton," she says, her tone gentle. "At least your subconscious did. It's just the anesthesia that made it come out so... clearly." His face falls, his eye drooping. "So, it's true?" he whispers. The humiliation washes over him like a cold shower, his pride dampened by the knowledge that his deepest thoughts were laid bare for all to see, even if it was just Sponge Bob and his wife. Karen nods, her screen sparkling with amusement. "But it's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's just part of the anesthesia. And besides, you looked so cute and happy, not to mention snoring away.." Just then, SpongeBob comes back to check and visit. "Hi Plankton!" he says cheerfully, his voice like a trumpet in the quiet room. Plankton's head snaps up, his heart racing at the sight of his friend. "Thponge Bob," he slurs, his voice barely audible. "How uh, how are ya?" Sponge Bob's smile is warm and welcoming. "I'm great, Plankton! How are you feeling?" Plankton's eye darts to Karen, who's still smiling, before returning to his friend. "I'm... I'm ok," he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. The embarrassment of his earlier admission weighs heavily on his shoulders. Sponge Bob notices the change in his demeanor. "You don't seem like it," he says gently. "Is everything okay?" Plankton's throat is tight with nerves. He swallows hard, his eye darting to Karen and back. "I... I had a bit of a... a misunderstanding," he says, his words stumbling over each other like a tangled mess of seaweed. Sponge Bob's face is a canvas of curiosity. "A misunderstanding?" he repeats, his voice innocent. "What kind of misunderstanding?" Plankton's eye narrows slightly, his cheeks still flushed. "Well, I... I don't really remember much from after the surgery," he says, his voice a mix of apology and hope. "But Karen says I... I talked a lot." Sponge Bob's grin doesn't waver. "Oh, you sure did, Plankton!" he says, his voice filled with warmth. "You had some pretty interesting stories to tell." Plankton's eye darts to the floor, his cheeks blazing with embarrassment. "I'm sorry if I... if I said anything weird," he mumbles, his voice tiny and unsure. He's never been one to show his vulnerable side, especially to Sponge Bob, whose good nature he often finds infectious. Sponge Bob's face lights up like a jellyfish in the night. "Weird?" he repeats, his voice filled with innocence. "What do you mean, weird?" Plankton's eye darts around the room, anywhere but at Sponge Bob's gazing eyes. "I... I just meant, you know, things that might not make sense," he says, his voice trailing off. Sponge Bob nods slowly, his smile remaining in place. "Oh, I remember," he says, his voice soft and understanding. "You talked about flying and being a dolphin. It was like listening to a fairy tale!" Plankton's eye flutters shut with relief. "Oh," he breathes. "So I didn't say..." Sponge Bob's smile doesn't fade. "Well, you said you loved to see me," he says, his voice innocent. "But I knew if you meant it, Plankton. You're my best friend too!" Plankton's face is a whirlwind of emotions: embarrassment, relief, and a strange kind of warmth that spreads through his chest. He swallows hard, his throat thick with unspoken words. He's not one to be so open, but the medicine has clearly stripped him of his usual reserve. Karen watches the exchange with love. The rare moment of vulnerability and friendship was something she never knew Plankton was capable of showing. It was a side of him she had never seen before, and it was beautiful. "So, Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his grin as wide as his face, "You're a dolphin, huh? I never knew dolphins snored..” Plankton's face is a mask of horror. "You…" he croaks. Sponge Bob nods, his eyes twinkling. "It's okay, Plankton," he says, his voice soothing. "But it was really sweet to hear you s..." "Snoring?" Plankton interrupts, his voice higher than usual. "You heard me… snoring?" Karen nods, her screen shining with amusement. "But don't worry, it's all part of the recovery process. You needed that rest." Sponge Bob chuckles, his body wobbling with laughter. "It's okay, Plankton," he says, his voice a comfort. "Many people snore sometimes." Plankton's eye narrows slightly, his pride stinging. "But not me," he mumbles, his voice barely a murmur. "I'm not a snorer." Sponge Bob's laughter fills the room, his body wobbling with mirth. "Oh, but you were, Plankton! It was adorable!" Karen's smile is like a beam of sunlight cutting through the embarrassment. "It was, wasn't it?" she says, her voice chiming in with Sponge Bob's laughter. Plankton's face is a map of humiliation, but his mind is racing. He's not one to let his guard down, especially in front of Sponge Bob. "But...but... I'm not one to snore!" he protests weakly, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's eyes crinkle with laughter. "Well, you did," she says, her voice teasing. "But don't worry, it's nothing to be ashamed of." Sponge Bob nods in agreement. "You looked so peaceful," he adds, his voice warm. Plankton's curiosity gets the better of him, yet not sure if he's ready for the answer. "Can I... can I see the video?" he asks, his voice tentative. Karen's laughter fades into a smile, and she nods, pulling out her phone. "But only if you promise not to get too embarrassed," she warns, her thumbs quickly navigating to the saved clip. The screen lights up with a sleeping Plankton, his snores like the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. Sponge Bob smiles quietly beside him, his body shaking in silent amusement. Plankton watches in horror, his eye wide as his snores echo through the room, his mouth hanging open. Karen hits pause, her smile still in place. "See?" she says, her voice soft. Plankton's cheeks burn with mortification. "I... I can't believe it," he stammers. "I... I snore?" Sponge Bob's laugh softens into a chuckle. "It's okay, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "We all have our moments." Plankton nods slowly, his face still flushed with embarrassment. He takes a deep breath, trying to reclaim some of his usual composure. "I... I guess you're right," he says, his voice a little stronger. Karen's smile doesn't waver. "Of course," she says, placing a hand on his. "Now, let's get some more ice cream.."

⠤⢠⡟⠁⢻⡄⠀⠀⠐⠠⠀⠀⠀⠄⠂⠠⠀⠀⠄⢠⣤⣤⣦⠼⢞⠇⠠⠈⣻⡶ ⠛⠋⠁⠁⠀⠙⠚⠛⣲⠶⠀⠀⠄⢄⠉⣶⠁⠀⠀⠀⠙⢧⣄⠀⠀⠅⠀⠁⢈⠠ ⣆⠀⠀⡀⠠⠀⢠⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⢙⣧⠀⠨⢁⠨⢀⠸ ⣽⠀⠸⣿⡿⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢸⡇⠀⣀⣒⢦⣆⠡ ⣯⡶⠟⠉⠑⠢⢤⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠷⠛⠁⠀⠑⠩⢛ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠠⢂ ⠀⠀⠔⢖⠁⢀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡊⠲⠀⠈⠄ ⠀⠇⠀⠀⠆⠾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠁⠈⠀⠀⡀ ⢈⠐⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⢄ ⠀⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠘⢀ ⠐⡒⣜⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⢀⡞⢻⣆⠊⠠ ⣉⣽⠋⠀⠽⣄⣀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⡾⠁⢾⣿⣿⣧ ⠉⠀⢀⠀⠈⡀⠉⣈⠿⠁⠀⠀⠐⢆⠁⢀⠆⠀⠀⠘⢿⣉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠋⢠ ⣶⠀⠠⠀⠀⢐⣾⠉⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠈⠂⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢶⡄⠀⠀⠀⢀⠂⣾ ⡗⢨⣥⣦⣌⡈⣹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠡⠀⠀⠀⢀⠈⠁⠀⠈⠀⠀⣸⠃⠀⣀⣤⡀⠄⣻

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COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 7 (Neurodivergent author) Hanna's pixel eyes fill with tears, her hand hovering over her mouth in shock. "Oh, Plankton," she says, her voice trembling like a leaf. The room is a frozen tableau, everyone at a loss for words. But Karen is unflappable. Her eyes dart around the room, assessing, planning. "It's ok," she repeats, her voice a steady beacon. "Let's just move aside, give him some space." They retreat to the couch, the cushions swallowing them like a sea anemone. Plankton's body is a ragdoll in her arms, his antennae limp with exhaustion. Karen keeps her screen calm, a bastion of serenity. "I'm sorry," Plankton whispers, his voice a ghost in the silence. "It's ok," Karen reassures him, her voice a gentle caress. "You don't have to apologize." She rubs his back as he leans on her shoulder, tired out. The room feels smaller now, the air thick with the weight of new understanding. Hanna's friends are finishing up dinner still in the kitchen. Karen knows they mean well, but their energy is a stark contrast to the quiet Plankton needs. Her hand on his back, Karen guides his breathing, her voice a lullaby against the storm of the evening. "Breathe in," she whispers, "and out." Her touch is a gentle tide, washing over him, soothing his frayed nerves. His body relaxes, his antennae dropping like tired leaves to her shoulder. The room is a sanctuary again, the chaos outside forgotten as they find solace in their quiet corner. "You're safe," she murmurs. "I've got you." Karen's hand moves in gentle circles, a comforting rhythm that Plankton's body craves. His antennae droop, his breathing evening out as he nestles closer. The couch is a life raft in the tumultuous sea of Hanna's house, and Plankton clings to her like a drowning sailor to a rope. His tiny body, once a taut bowstring, now relaxes into the embrace of sleep. Karen feels the weight of his head, a trust so profound it's like an anchor in the storm. His antennae droop, no longer the frantic sails of a ship in distress. She adjusts her position, shifting slightly to support him better, her arm a gentle cradle. The room's sounds become distant whispers, the waves of conversation fading into the background. Plankton's breathing slows. Karen watches him sleep, his antennae twitching slightly with each snore as his mouth slackens open. Patricia comes in the living room to check on them. "How's he doin’?" she asks, her voice a hushed whisper. Karen glances up, a soft smile playing on her lips. "He's ok," she says, her voice a gentle wave. "Just exhausted." Patricia nods, her face a portrait of concern. "What can I do to help?" she asks, her eyes searching for a way to ease the burden. Karen looks at her, the question a beacon in the fog. "Just...give us a little more time," she says, her voice a soft shush. "Let him rest." Patricia nods, retreating quietly to the kitchen, the clack of her heels a mournful tune on the hardwood floor. The couch is their sanctuary, their quiet island in the sea of Hanna's home. Karen's arm is a makeshift cradle for Plankton's head, his antennae brushing against her neck. The weight of his body is a silent testament to his trust in her, and she holds it with the care of a pearl diver handling the most delicate of treasures. The room is a canvas of shadows, the candles now mere embers in the distance. Plankton's snores are the rhythm of their solace, each breath a testament to the resilience that lies within him. Karen's thoughts drift like seaweed in the tide of her concerns. What will tomorrow bring? How can she shield him from the storms of misunderstanding? But in this moment, she focuses on the present, her eyes tracing the lines of his sleeping form. Plankton's antennae have stopped twitching, his body at peace in her embrace. The soft snores, a symphony of security, fill the quiet space between them. The house has quieted down, the dinner party's echoes a distant memory. Hanna and her friends have retreated to the kitchen, their whispers like the gentle lapping of waves. Plankton is a bundle of quiet energy in her arms, his antennae twitching in his sleep. Karen can feel the steady throb of his heart, a lullaby that matches his breathing. She strokes his back in a comforting rhythm, his body a warm, comforting weight against her. The candles have burned down to nubs, the room bathed in a soft glow. His antennae rest against her neck, a silent communication of trust. Her eyes trace the contours of his sleeping form, his body a puzzle she's come to understand. The quiet whispers of the kitchen are a comforting backdrop to the symphony of his snores. Karen's hand moves in gentle circles on his back, each motion a declaration of support. The room's shadows dance around them, a ballet of understanding, a rhythm that's become their own. Plankton's antennae are limp, his body a testament to his exhaustion. The couch is their sanctuary in a sea of uncertainty. Her arm is a mooring, holding him steady in the tumult of his own mind. His breathing is a metronome, a soothing rhythm. With each inhale and exhale, she feels the tension in his body melt away, his snores a comforting reminder that he's safe. Her eyes trace the soft lines of his face, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The room is a symphony of silence, the couch their tiny boat adrift in the vast ocean of Hanna's house. Plankton's antennae, once a flurry of nervous energy, now hang limply. Karen's eyes are the moon, watching over him as he slumbers, his trust in her a glowing beacon in the dark. Her hand, a gentle tide, strokes his back, each caress a reminder of her steadfast support. His snores are the lullaby of the sea, each breath a testament to his newfound peace.

KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 7 (Autistic author) Sponge Bob leaves, and it's bed time. The room is dimly lit. Karen helps Plankton into bed, his movements stiff and unyielding. "Pattern," he murmurs, his eye scanning the ceiling. "Ceiling. Pattern." Karen nods with love. "It's beautiful," she agrees, her voice soft. "But Plankton, it's time for bed. Can I get you anything?" He shakes his head, his antennas drooping slightly. "No, thank Karen. Pattern. Sleep." Karen nods, aching for the man she loves, now lost in a world of patterns and precision. "I'll be here if you need me," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. He nods, his gaze never leaving the ceiling. "Pattern," he murmurs. "Safe." Karen lies beside him, their bodies close but their worlds feeling so far apart. She reaches out, her hand trembling as it touches his arm. "Do you want me to turn the lights off?" she asks, her voice tight with uncertainty. Plankton nods, his gaze still on the ceiling. "Pattern," he murmurs. "No patterns. Sleep." Karen nods, her fingers tracing the outline of his arm, feeling the tension in his body ease slightly. She gently pulls the blanket up to his chin, tucking it in around him. "Okay, I'll keep the light off low," she says, her voice soothing. "But if you need anything, just let me know." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly. "Pattern," he murmurs. "Sleep." Karen nods, her own exhaustion weighing heavily on her shoulders. She lies down. "I'll be right here," she whispers, her hand finding its way to his. Plankton's antennae twitch again as he feels her warmth, the sensation unexpected and slightly overwhelming. "Karen," he says, his voice sleepy. "Warmth." Karen smiles, her eyes closed. "I know," she whispers. "It's okay. I'm here." Plankton's grip tightens slightly, his antennae relaxing. "Pattern," he says, his voice a mere murmur. "Karen. Sleep." Karen squeezes his hand back, aching for the man she loves, now lost in a world where the simple act of holding hands is a complex dance of sensory input and emotional regulation. "Pattern," she whispers back, her voice soothing. "We'll make new patterns together." Plankton's antennae quiver, his grip on her hand steadying. "New patterns," he repeats, his voice slightly more present. "Together." Karen nods, her eyes squeezed shut. "Together," she whispers, her voice shaky. "We'll make it work." Karen can feel Plankton's body begin to relax, his grip on her hand loosening slightly. As they lay there, Karen thinks back to their past anniversaries, each one filled with laughter, love, and the promise of adventure. This one was different, marked by a stark reality she wasn't prepared for. But she knows she'll do anything for him. Plankton's breathing evens out, his body slowly releasing tension. His hand is still in hers, a silent promise that she'll always be there for him. Karen wonders what tomorrow will bring, how they'll navigate this new world of patterns and precision. As sleep takes over, she whispers, "I love you, Plankton," hoping that his subconscious can still hear her, still understand the depth of her feelings. Karen listens to the sound of Plankton's snoring as she falls asleep. The next morning, Karen wakes up to Plankton still holding her hand as his antennae twitch in his sleep. She gently withdraws, careful not to wake him, and she can't help but smile through her tears that threaten to fall. In the kitchen, she starts making breakfast, trying to recall what she'd read about autistic individuals and their preferences. She remembers that Plankton used to love Krabby Patties, but now his taste might have changed. With care, she prepares a plate of square eggs and perfectly aligned toast, knowing that the visual symmetry might provide comfort. She even arranges the condiments in a pattern she hopes he'll find pleasing. As Plankton enters the room, his eye immediately scans the table, his antennae twitching. He takes a seat, his movements mechanical. "Breakfast," he says, his voice devoid of his usual zest. Karen's watching him closely. "Yes, Plankton," she says, her voice steady despite the fear swirling inside her. "I made you your favorite." He nods, his gaze locking onto the plate before him. His hand reaches out, his movements calculated. He picks up a piece of toast, studying it before placing it back down. "Pattern," he whispers, his antennae waving slightly. Karen watches him. "Would you like to eat?" she asks, her voice tentative. Plankton's antennae wave slightly. "Eat," he says, his voice flat. "Pattern." Karen nods, her smile forced. "Okay," she says, taking a seat opposite him. "Let's eat together." Plankton's antennae twitch as he looks at her, his gaze quickly shifting to the breakfast she's prepared. He picks up a piece of toast, examining it closely before taking a bite, his jaws moving in a precise, mechanical manner. Karen watches him, her screen filled with a mix of worry and love. "Is it good?" she asks, her voice hopeful. Plankton nods, his mouth still chewing. "Symmetry. Good." Karen's heart squeezes at his response. It's not the same, but it's something. "I'm so glad you like it," she says, forcing cheerfulness into her tone. "That makes me happy!" Plankton nods, his antennae barely moving. "Happy," he repeats. "Karen happy."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠟⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⣿⡃⠀⠀⢀⡾⡃⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡼⠋⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠟⠋⠁⣰⡟⣠⡇⠀⢻⡀⠀⢀⣴⠏⢀⡀⠘⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⣶⣿⡇⠠⠸⣧⣠⠟⠁⢀⣾⡇⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠐⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠏⢾⠿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠙⠃⠀⢠⣾⣿⡇⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⢦⣀⡾⢿⣶⣮⣅⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠅⠀⢹⣇⣠⠶⠛⠛⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⣄⣀⣹⡇⠘⣿⣿⣿⠿⠆⠀⠒⢻⣾⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⣠⣼⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡆⠀⠀⠈⠿⣿⡿⡟⠻⠞⢯⣼⣇⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠠⡾⠛⠁⠘⠷⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠁⠀⠉⠛⠶⣤⣀⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⠶⠛⠙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠙⠛⠛⠛⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠳⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠴⠞⠛⠛⡆⠀⠀⠀⢸⣆⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣋⢀⣀⣠⣴⣾⠇⠀⠀⣰⠟⠙⠶⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢁⡴⠋⠀⠀⣠⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣤⣤⡴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⣄⣀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣤⡞⠉⠉⢳⡟⠉⠀⠹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⣼⠀⢸⣿⡟⠋⠳⣶⡚⠛⢷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢿⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢦⣤⡽⢧⣀⣠⣿⡿⢀⡿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⠶⠚⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠖⢻⠛⠉⠁ ⠤⠴⣷⠖⠀⠀⢰⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠟⠀⠀⠐⣾⠒⠒⠀ ⠀⣠⠼⣖⠂⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠻⠬⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣲⠷⢤⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡼⠿⣥⣀⣀⣀⣖⣛⠙⠓⠧⢯⣀⣀⣠⣴⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⠀⢀⡟⠁⠀⢹⡦⠿⠤⠴⣆⠀⣸⡏⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣇⠀⠀⢸⣯⢔⡞⢝⡉⢻⣿⠀⠀⢀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠈⠓⠒⣿⠰⠓⠫⡯⠱⣢⣨⠟⠚⠋⠈⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣆⡈⢃⣩⣶⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠿⠿⠿⠶⣷⡀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠚⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠓⠚⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠻⠟⢛⣛⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣋⣉⡄⠀⣀⡀⠨⣙⣏⣉⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣯⣿⣷⣿⢾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣛⣒⡛⢫⠤⣠⢤⣤⣤⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣻⣯⣿⢿⣿⢯⣿⣯⣿⣿⣻⣞⡷⣿⣽⣻⡽ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢮⣭⣉⡓⠺⠊⢉⠓⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣿⣻⢿⡿⣯⢿⣷⢯⡷⣯⣟⠷⣯⡗⡿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣩⣿⣿⢿⣷⣄⡙⢮⠭⡁⢠⣬⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣯⢿⣽⡿⣾⣻⣽⣳⣞⣟⡧⣟⡽ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⡴⠹⢿⣿⣀⣿⣿⣯⣍⢛⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⡿⣯⣿⡽⣟⡾⣵⢫⣾⡱⢯⡜ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⢀⣞⣰⣀⣾⡷⠘⣿⣿⣟⣩⠙⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⢷⣟⣿⢯⡷⣏⡟⣶⡹⢇⡞ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣰⢯⣾⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠼⢿⣿⠥⢤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣟⡾⣟⣯⢿⡼⣹⢶⡹⢣⠞ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⢿⡽⣯⣟⢾⡱⣏⠵⣋⠎ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢬⡙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣽⣳⢯⣏⡗⣎⠳⡌⠆ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⢻⡗⣮⡝⣬⢳⠉⡎ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡿⣯⢷⣫⢗⡭⢎⢧⡙ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡆⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⣀⢛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣟⣯⣟⣧⡟⡼⣉⢆⠣ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠹⣿⢿⡟⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⡂⠭⢊⠻⡹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⣻⣞⡽⣲⢍⡎⢇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⢻⠆⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢡⠒⠐⢀⠀⠠⠐⡆⢯⡹⡹⢛⡯⢭⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣾⢯⣷⣻⣜⡳⢎⡜⠦ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠻⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠠⢎⢦⡹⢄⡄⣌⣩⣝⠾⣡⢃⠡⠃⡘⢧⠿⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣟⣷⣻⡼⣝⢮⡙⡖ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣾⣷⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⣩⣁⣳⣶⣦⣤⣤⣈⣥⢛⡞⣶⣿⣜⣫⢝⣶⣫⢞⣡⣀⣒⣀⡴⣨⡽⣎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⣯⢷⣻⡜⣮⢱⢣ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⢻⠇⠛⢧⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠾⠛⣉⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣿⣯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣯⣿⢾⣯⢷⣻⣼⢣⢧ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡌⣿⠀⣶⣿⠃⠀⠂⠀⠀⢰⣶⡾⠟⠫⣈⢿⡿⠟⣨⣿⣿⣿⢿⡆⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢹⣯⣿⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢸⣿⢯⣿⢯⡿⣟⡾⣏⣞ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠸⡀⢿⡃⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣉⣛⠶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⠃⠀⢠⣿⣿⡏⢿⣯⣭⠷⣭⣭⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣃⣿⣿⣯⣟⣯⡿⣽⣻⢞⡵ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠱⡈⠹⡄⠀⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠋⣙⣹⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣆⢻⣿⣻⣶⣷⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⢯⡿⣽⡷⣯⢿⣹ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⢲⡾⠀⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠜⡹⠟⠉⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡽⢿⣿⡿⢿⡟⢶⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣯⢿⣯⣟⣷⣻⣽⡳⣏ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⡀⣀⡆⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠱⠂⠄⣙⢣⣟⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣷⣻⣟⡾⣽⣞⡷⣯⡽⣳ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣍⠣⡉⠴⣌⢷⣾⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣞⣯⢷⣯⡟⣷⣫⡽⢶⡻⣵ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡑⢺⡿⢏⢀⣠⣀⠀⣦⣀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⣝⡳⣎⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡽⣯⣟⢶⡻⣵⢣⡟⣯⢳⢧ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⠁⢰⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢢⣏⣷⢿⣭⣻⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣳⣟⣷⣫⢯⡷⣭⢳⡝⣮⢛⡼ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠷⣞⡿⣎⡶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡷⣟⣾⡳⣏⡷⣹⢎⡷⣙⢦⣋⠖ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣺⣽⢳⢏⣾⣿⣿⣿⡍⣉⣛⣻⡿⢿⣾⣽⣝⣳⣝⢮⠳⣍⠶⣉⠞ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⡿⠿⠾⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⢿⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡉⢿⣿⡙⠲⣤⣈⡙⠻⠮⣽⣙⡌⢣⠱⣊ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⢸⣆⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠉⠁⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣿⢿⡛⣴⣿⣻⢻⡽⣷⢯⣞⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣡⡄⠀⢢⠉⠱⣄⠀⠉⠈⠐⠃⠄ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠹⣄⠙⣄⡀⠀⠀⠜⢢⠳⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⡷⢭⡷⣯⢿⣯⣿⢾⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣆⠀⠀⠉⠢⠈⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⡙⢧⡈⠻⣦⣄⠘⠀⠠⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⢧⡻⡽⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣷⡄⠀⠀⠃⠈⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣧⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⠀⢀⣠⠀⠀⢿⠛⠻⢤⡘⠻⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⡼⣼⢧⣿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⣿⡄⠀⠀⢀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣷⡿⣿⣽⠟⠁⠀⣠⡏⢰⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠘⣧⠤⠄⠙⢶⣌⠛⢶⣤⣶⣶⣿⣾⣿⣯⣟⣯⣿⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⢯⣿⡄⠘⠤⢂⠙⢦⡀⠀ ⣟⡾⣽⠟⠁⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⣾⡇⠀⠀⠹⢿⣀⣤⡀⠙⢆⡰⣳⣦⣈⡛⣶⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢫⣞⢿⡃⠄⢂⠀⢣⢳⡀ ⣯⡟⠃⠀⡰⠀⠀⣿⠃⢸⣿⡇⢀⠀⡀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣷⣮⠵⣹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣷⣿⣿⣟⡿⣷⣿⠿⣝⡷⣎⠲⣅⠀⠀⠈⠀⠡⢓ ⠋⠀⣀⠔⠁⠀⢀⡇⠀⣾⣿⡄⠈⣆⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣙⣌⣙⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢯⣟⣿⣿⡿⣿⡽⣾⣽⣻⣿⡹⣌⢳⣍⡒⠈⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈ ⠀⠀⠀⠠⣆⠀⢸⠀⢠⠿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣧⠑⢦⠀⠁⠀⠀⢈⠛⢿⣿⣽⣶⣯⣽⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣯⣿⣻⣞⡷⣿⢯⣟⣷⢳⣿⣯⡕⢎⠲⡡⠌⠐⠠⡀⠀⢀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢆⡇⠠⠊⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⡷⣄⠳⣤⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⠿⣿⢿⡿⠟⢉⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣟⣾⢿⣽⡻⢾⡭⣟⣿⡗⢮⡡⠂⠑⣂⠀⡲⢱⠀⠄⡁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀⠀⢸⡷⠜⢧⡈⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡾⡽⢧⠿⣜⣿⡟⢢⠑⡤⠘⢤⠣⢌⢣⠘⠠⠀⠂ ⣾⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣦⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠐⠛⣦⣄⠠⣄⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⢯⡿⣷⣿⣻⠯⣷⣎⡿⡍⢦⡙⠴⡁⠎⣇⠫⢄⠊⢀⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⠲⣭⣯⣿⣾⣿⣷⣽⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣨⡇⠸⣷⣄⠁⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡣⢿⡱⢎⡝⠻⠶⣾⡽⣙⠦⡙⠤⠃⢘⠀⢳⡈⡐⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢠⠐⡁⢰⣿⠿⡷⠀⠹⡙⣶⣄⡀⠀⢠⡄⢀⣾⡿⣟⢣⠟⡼⢫⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣷⣏⠂⢜⡱⣌⡄⢣⣝⠂⡉⠒⡁⠀⠀⠂⠐⠈⠀⠠⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣿⣿⣦⣼⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣷⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⡟⢹⣿⡿⢟⣥⣾⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀ ⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣹⣿⣿⡟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣏⣿⡻⣿⣿⡿⠋⠻⣿⣿⣆ ⠘⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠋⠀⠙⠿⠿⠿⠿⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠉⠀⡀⠄⡒⠈⠭⠭⠥⠈⠐⣚⣛⠛⠛⠛⡲⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠔⡨⡢⠑⠈⠉⠁⠉⠄⠀⠀⠀⡲⠀⠀⠐⢄⠀⠈⢷⠀⠀ ⠠⣤⣿⣛⡛⠛⣻⢿⣛⣟⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣛⢿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢦⡀ ⡴⠛⢡⡶⠒⡖⠦⢭⣿⣮⣱⣎⣿⣿⡿⠏⠀⠙⡿⠷⠿⣾⢿⣿⢭⡞⡐⣷ ⡇⠀⢺⠠⢾⡟⠲⢤⣀⡀⠠⠤⠄⡖⢂⣀⠀⠀⠙⣦⣄⠉⠉⢰⡄⠠⢃⣿ ⠹⣎⡪⠀⠀⢷⡦⣄⣯⡉⠓⠲⣤⣵⣉⣀⡀⠶⠞⠁⣀⣨⣴⢿⣷⠈⣰⠃ ⠀⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⠻⣌⡟⠛⠷⣶⣧⣄⣀⣹⣏⣉⣻⣉⣉⣧⣸⣷⣿⠀⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠳⣄⠀⠀⠈⠳⢤⡀⣸⠉⠉⠛⡿⠻⠿⡿⠿⣿⢿⡿⣿⡟⠀⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣅⡪⢔⡠⢉⡛⠲⠦⠤⠧⣤⣤⣧⡴⠧⠾⠖⠛⠀⠀⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠦⣅⡒⠡⠶⠀⣠⡤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠐⢁⠠⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠦⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⢀⣠⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠓⠒⠒⠒⠚⠉⠁⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀B😎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣉⣩⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⣾⣿⣿⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠤⠙⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠙⠻⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⣩⣝⢿⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⡝⣿⣦⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣮⢻⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠻⠿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣋⣁⣀⣀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇ 💜🤡

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡴⠶⠚⠛⠛⡿⠿⣿⠛⢶⠛⠓⠶⢦⣄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠶⠛⠉⠀⣀⣀⣴⡶⠾⢤⣚⠉⢣⡈⠳⡀⠀⠀⠹⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⠶⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⡏⠉⢁⡤⢟⠀⡖⢦⡈⠓⠤⠵⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⡴⠶⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⣀⠤⠴⡽⠋⠁⠚⣅⠀⠸⡀⢳⠀⠉⠒⠤⠔⡞⠉⠒⠉⢱⣏ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⡴⠶⠚⠋⢉⣀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣎⣁⠚⣁⡤⠖⡁⢸⠉⢦⡈⠳⠤⠃⡸⠀⢀⡴⠒⠴⡥⠒⠒⢦⢀⡿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⠶⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⣀⣀⣰⠋⠀⠉⠉⢠⠏⢁⣀⠙⢧⡀⠀⡇⠈⡇⠀⠙⠒⠤⢲⠗⠒⠚⢀⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠞⠋⠁⠀⡰⠓⢦⠤⠒⠚⠀⡸⠋⡉⠓⣖⠉⠹⡀⢸⠀⠱⢄⡈⠉⣡⠜⠓⠤⡤⠒⣒⣋⣀⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣼⣧⣀⡞⣉⣉⣡⠞⢉⡉⠳⡊⠉⡇⢸⠉⢦⠈⢦⣀⡇⢸⠄⠀⠀⠉⣹⠃⢀⡠⠤⠤⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣼⠷⢧⡀⠹⡄⠀⢸⠀⡎⠹⡄⠱⡄⡇⢸⣇⡀⠓⢤⣀⣠⣞⠀⡰⢋⣀⣁⡠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⠟⠁⠀⠀⠙⡄⠘⣄⡸⠀⡇⠀⠙⢤⣈⣠⡾⠉⠈⠉⠒⠊⢀⣀⣉⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡶⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⣆⡀⠀⠀⠘⠦⣀⣀⣴⠥⠤⠄⠠⠔⠚⠁⡰⠚⠒⠤⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠶⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢿⡀⡜⠃⠀⢠⠖⠲⠤⠞⡡⠤⣀⣀⡴⠊⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡴⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⢳⣌⡀⠀⠈⢆⣠⠒⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡴⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⢲⣏⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⠴⠞⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⣷⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⠴⠶⠚⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⢔⣒⠂⣀⣂⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠋⢠⣟⣼⣷⠼⣞⣽⢏⣿⣆⠱⣄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡀⣆⠛⠢⠐⡍⡉⣾⣾⣽⣟⡰⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⢿⣿⣦⠀⠤⢶⣿⠿⢋⣴⡏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣺⡙⢻⣿⣿⣧⣽⣉⣁⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⣷⡔⡉⣩⢋⡋⠩⠯⡟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠈⣘⣶⣁⢙⢐⣄⡴⠪⠓⠁⠉⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⠫⣿⠉⠻⣇⠘⠓⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠇⣿⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⢐⢝⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠈⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⠿⢛⣄⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠘⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠶⢪⣯⢦⡈⠑⠦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⢧⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⣇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠒⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣯⢆⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡤⣄⣹⣊⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⢠⣤⠿⣶⣿⣿⣶⣭⣭⣍⣓⠖⠦⣤⣀⠀⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⣿⣯⣡⡇⠀⠀⠀⣸⠋⠉⠉⣻⡗⠛⠛⠫⠿⢿⣖⣢⣬⣉⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣋⡭⢿⣿⣷⣼⠇⠀⠀⢿⠀⢀⡠⠋⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⠙⠒⢻⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣀⠴⠚⠉⢈⣥⠴⠚⣻⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⠉⣄⣀⡈⠓⠤⣀⣠⠞⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣼⡥⠴⠒⠉⢁⣠⣴⠿⣯⠁⢣⣀⣀⣠⣤⣿⠀⠀⠙⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢻⣤⣤⢖⡯⠛⠉⠀⠀⠈⢳⣰⣇⣠⡏⢀⣼⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣟⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢹⡋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡦⢾⠋⠀⣿⠀⠻⣅⢻⠭⢿⣷⡖⢲⣶⣒⣿⣿⣿⣧⣭⣿⡿⠷⠒⣋⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⢳⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⠸⡄⠀⣿⣀⠀⠸⡿⡆⢠⠿⣾⣾⣳⠀⢹⣯⣿⣿⣿⣧⣴⡲⠯⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⣧⠀⡟⠿⢍⣻⣇⣳⡞⢸⣿⣿⣿⣄⣿⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣄⠀⠀⠀⠸⡼⡀⡷⣾⣿⣧⡬⣿⡟⠛⠹⣿⣿⡟⢽⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⠤⠤⠴⠟⠻⡇⣏⢸⠉⡇⢽⡇⢰⣖⣿⣧⠀⢸⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠚⢉⡠⢷⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡇⠙⠻⠼⠀⣿⡇⢸⠉⡏⢹⠀⢸⠀⢸⣦⡤⡤⠤⠤⠖⠚⠉⢉⣉⠤⠖⠊⠁⠀⢸⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⡇⠸⢤⣧⡼⠀⢼⠀⠀⡏⠚⠚⠓⠲⠚⢹⡏⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣾⠙⠒⠤⣄⣟⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⣉⠒⢤⣀⠈⠑⠲⣤⣀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠀⠙⠒⢬⣯⢽⠲⠤⢌⣉⠒⡿⠖⢺⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠒⠦⢄⣉⢑⢚⡿⠋⠉⠙⠒⠒⠤⣾⠀⣀⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠙⠲⢤⣄⡀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠈⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⣯⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡙⠛⠒⠢⠤⢤⣀⣀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢧⠉⢦⣦⣀⡠⢀⣀⣼⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢌⡿⠶⠞⠋⣁⣤⡷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⣫⢾⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠒⠚⠉⠀⠀⠙⠢⣈⠑⠦⣀⠀⣀⣔⢽⡫⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠦⣀⣉⣡⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣞⣛⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⠉⢸⣿⣷⡈⠛⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⡞⠛⢿⡇⠀⠀⣰⣟⣿⣾⢶⡄⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⡶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢿⡀⢀⣼⣧⡀⠀⠻⠏⠁⠉⠛⠁⠀⡟⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠟⠋⠁⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⠈⠙⠻⢶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⣻⡿⠗⠀⠉⣳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡥⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣋⣀⡶⢶⣶⡿⢋⣡⠴⠖⠶⢤⣍⠳⣦⠀⠀⠈⠙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠙⢷⡤⠤⠴⣞⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⠲⠦⣼⣥⣿⠏⣠⣟⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⡌⢳⣠⣤⡶⠶⠿⠷⢤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⣶⠾⣧⣀⢀⣼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡏⠛⠓⢶⣯⣿⡏⢠⡿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠀⠋⣁⡤⠖⠒⠲⢶⣌⠻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡾⠁⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠉⢹⣏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣿⣇⠸⣟⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⣼⡛⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⡘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠻⢦⡴⠏⢹⡓⠒⢺⡏⠙⢷⡴⣏⡉⠛⢦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡄⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠃⢸⠿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⣀⣠⡷⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢦⣄⠈⠙⠳⢦⣄⣰⡋⠘⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⣦⣌⠙⠒⠶⠶⠚⢋⣠⡄⠸⡟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠃⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠶⣤⣀⠀⣸⢻⡄⠈⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣻⣦⣄⠈⠙⠛⠒⠒⠛⠉⠙⣿⣄⠹⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⢋⣴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣷⡏⠀⠻⡄⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⢸⣏⠳⣬⣷⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢷⣄⡉⠙⠛⢉⣁⣴⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⢀⣳⣤⣀⠀⠹⣦⡀⠈⠓⠮⢿⡦⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⣿⣽⡿⠈⠛⠦⣄⡙⠲⢤⣄⣀⠉⠛⣻⣽⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠛⠶⣄⣀⣠⡟⠀⠈⠋⠀⠀⣠⣀⠀⠉⠛⠲⢤⣍⣉⡉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⢀⣽⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠃⠈⠙⠲⢤⣀⡀⠀⡈⠉⠉⣳⣶⡤⠶⠒⠛⢉⣹⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⡽⠃⠀⠀⣿⣧⣿⠤⠖⠛⠉⠉⠻⢦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠲⠦⢤⣤⠴⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⣴⠶⠶⣤⣀⠀⠉⠛⠲⠦⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⣀⡤⣄⣀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⠿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣟⠀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠳⠦⣤⣄⣀⢉⡿⢻⠋⠋⣀⡼⠉ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠉⠛⠶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠈⠉⠙⢻⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⠷⠾⣄⣠⣿⣶⠞ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡞⠳⠦⢴⡞⠋⠉⠙⠛⠻⣶⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢤⣤⡶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠧⠤⠶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡀⢈⣉⣉⣛⣿⣷⣶⠖⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣛⣻⠽⠟⠓⣻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣯⣽⣿⠖⠒⠚⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⣀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣦⠘⢶⣄⣀⡀⠘⣷⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠺⠥⢄⣀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣟⣁⣀⣤ ⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣛⠛⠳⢤⣈⣂⠈⠑⠞⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣍⡹⠶⢤⡀⠈⠙⡒⠆⠀⠀⠈⣉⠛⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿ ⣶⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠐⠒⢬⣭⠵⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠔⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⡀⠈⠳⠦⣄⠀⠽⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠀ ⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠄⠐⣺⣽⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣄⠀⡄⠤⣵⣦⠀⠉⣙⠛⠒⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⣩⣿⣿⡵⢒⣽⢶⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠔⠀⠘⢦⠘⡆⠈⠛⠷⡄⠹⣯⡓⠤⣀⠀ ⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠡⡿⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣤⣶⣶⣶⡶⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⡄⠀⠀⠀⡈⠂⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣧⠄⢀⡇⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⣤⣤⣬⣽⡦ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⣼⢨⣇⣀⣿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⠋⠁⣀⣤⣶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⡶⠊⠁⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀⡆⠀⠘⡎⢙⡋⡁⠰⣄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢸⡏⠻⠿⣿⣿⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⢋⣠⢃⣾⡿⠓⠒⠦⣄⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⡷⠋⠙⠢⡀⠈ ⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⣿⣄⡴⠛⠿⣶⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠁⣾⠃⡾⠛⣰⣿⣿⡆⡎⡆⢀⠎⠀⠀⢀⡴⠃⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⠀⡇⡀⠀⠀⢹⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⣠⣿⣿⡆⠠⣶⣦⠸⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠈⢮⡻⠛⠃⢁⡠⠋⠀⢀⡤⠊⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡇⠀⠀⡇⠉⣀⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⠀⠠⠀⠈⠀⠰⡟⢸⣿⠱⡀⠻⠟⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠡⠤⣤⡚⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⡇⣼⠀⠀⢹⠀⠘⠀⣸⠀ ⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣯⡆⠈⠉⠀⠀⡸⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⢉⠏⠀⣸⠃⣹⠀⠀⣏⠄⠀⠀⠅⠀ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⡇⠀⠀⠀⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠀⣰⠋⠀⣿⠀⠀⡟⢆⢀⠞⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠒⣠⡞⠁⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠁⣰⠃⢀⠀⡏⠀⢸⢃⡼⢳⡀⠀⠀ ⠸⠗⠀⠀⢘⣥⣾⣫⠔⡸⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⢇⣾⠇⠀⣼⠀⡇⣄⣼⠀⠀⠘⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠠⠿⣿⣿⢋⠀⠃⡼⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⢳⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⢀⢰⣿⡄⣧⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣷⡟⠀⣼⠁⡕⢹⣦⠀⠀⠀⠙⣟⠉⠉⠉⢉⡽⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣵⣏⣸⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⠁⣾⣿⡆⢃⣼⣌⠳⣄⠀⠀⠈⠑⠒⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡟⠁⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⠿⢻⣿⣰⣿⣿⣇⣾⣿⣿⡇⠈⢳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠞⠉⢿⢀⠀⢀⣿⣿⡁⢸⣿⣿⠀⢀⢷⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀ ⠴⠶⠿⠷⠄⢼⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡇⣠⢸⡏⡱⢄⡀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⡶⠟⠉⠀⣀⣀⣠⠏⢀⡼⠋⢺⠁⢸⡟⢿⠀⠆⠈⣇⠀⠀⠀⠰ ⡀⠀⠀⠀⡐⠸⡿⠗⠋⣿⣿⡿⠀⣿⣿⠇⢸⡏⣧⠤⠭⠿⠟⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠀⡆⠁⠈⠱⣇⠀⠸⡆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣁⠀⣸⢟⣽⠁⣰⢻⡇⢠⠏⠀⣿⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡤⣤⣶⣶⣴⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣼⡇⠀⣸⢀⣿⡄⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣋⣭⣿⣿⣿⠏⣴⡇⢀⡇⣎⣠⠞⢻⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣶⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⣿⣾⣿⣇⣰⢹⠀⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣏⣼⣿⡇⢸⡷⠋⠀⢀⣤⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣏⣹⣿⢛⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠙⠆

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⣶⣾⣿⣶⡦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠈⠐⡤⠊⠀⠀⠈⠑⡀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠎ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠁⠀ ⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠢⡀⠀⡀⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠹⣿⣆⣰⣿⡟⠙⢿⣷⣼⠟⠁⠀⠈⣿⡟⣻⣷⠀⣿⣿⣙⠿ ⢠⡟⣿⠏⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣟⢹⣿⡆⣿⣿⠻⠀ ⠙⠋⠈⠈⠛⠋⠀⠈⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠙⠛⠉⠈⠛⠋⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠈⠠⣻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠖⠲⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⠥⣤⢟⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⣺⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⣶⠚⠛⠻⠯⢽⡿⣯⢭⣧⢤⣤⢴⣿⣶⣶⣶⣤⡶⢿⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠚⢾⡟⠉⠹⡿⠿⣿⠞⠛⣶⣿⣿⡿⣿⡾⣦⣼⠧⣬⣽⣿⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠒⠚⢁⡔⠋⠳⣴⠃⡈⠭⠭⠍⠭⠭⠽⠿⢅⣏⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡩⠿⠲⠶⠟⠺⡝⠤⠤⢄⡴⠋⠙⠛⠋⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠖⠋⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⢿⣀⣀⣀⣀⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠤⣶⣶⠖⠖⠚⠛⠓⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠋⠀⠠⣿⣻⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣧⣠⠤⢌⡏⠉⠉⢉⣟⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠴⠿⠯⠤⣟⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⣄⢀⣠⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠙⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⠈⠀⣀⣏⠉⠉⠉⢁⣀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣠⣾⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠂⠄⠀⠤⠤⠜⠛⣁⡽⠒⢲⣤⣤⣤⡤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⡿⢈⣿⡏⠉⢳⠒⠋⠙⣏⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⡁⣉⣷⣷⣟⣉⣉⣽⡉⠑⢾⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠞⢡⢴⡾⠛⠁⢠⣯⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢻⠇⣞⠉⣽⡄⠀⢧⠀⠀⠘⣆⢀⣹⣄⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⢁⣨⣿⣿⣶⣦⡄⠙⣄⠀⢧⣀⣠⠔⢚⣭⣤⣼⣾⠋⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⢿⣢⢄⣀⠀⠀⣸⢀⣿⢷⣯⣷⠀⠈⣧⠴⠒⣋⣁⣤⣤⣮⣿⣿⣟⣷⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢰⠋⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡘⣤⣖⣭⡶⠞⠋⠀⠉⠛⠛⣶⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣼⡟⣽⣾⣭⡶⡇⢸⣧⣤⡟⢿⣧⠀⣸⣦⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢉⡻⠻⢿⣿⢛⡟⣟⠀⠠⢤⢤⡶⣾⣾⢉⡘⢷⣶⣶⢶⣿⣿⣟⣾⣿⣿⠟⢹⠁⣟⣿⣿⣿⡿⡿⣿⠉⢿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⣼⣿⡶⢤⣀⠀⢸⣄⠀⢀⡼⠿⣧⢹⣦⣤⣼⣿⣤⣷⣿⣯⣿⣦⠉⠛⠿⡿⢫⣾⣿⡿⠁⢠⡟⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⣿⠁⠀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀ ⢰⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⢭⣀⢸⣀⠀⠈⠻⣽⣏⣹⣿⠏⠀⠀⠹⣟⠛⠲⠤⡀⠘⣾⣿⠏⢀⣴⣿⠇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣆⣘⡶⣯⣝⠏⢻⣿⣷⣤⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀ ⠐⣿⣿⡦⣄⡀⠀⠀⢰⠏⠀⠀⠙⣆⠀⠘⢧⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠐⢻⡆⠀⢀⠇⢀⡟⢁⣠⣾⣿⡿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⢸⡑⡄⠈⣻⣿⣆⠬⢿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⣿⣿⣡⠹⡽⣷⣤⣾⠿⠀⢀⠉⠉⠣⣄⡀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠓⣖⠋⠤⣼⣀⡼⣷⡿⠛⢣⢠⠟⢻⠉⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣧⣿⡠⢬⣹⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠘⣿⣿⣆⠙⢾⣿⣯⣿⣶⣾⣶⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢯⠷⠒⣶⠘⢷⣋⡃⠀⢼⣾⣤⣶⣶⠋⣿⣿⣿⣿⣠⣬⣿⣿⠇⢸⡟⣿⣿⠬⣷⡿⣍⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣷⣄⣈⣉⣉⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠯⣉⣛⡓⠒⠶⠶⠶⢾⠶⠾⢿⣷⣤⣍⡙⣲⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⢿⣿⣿⣆⢳⠸⢿⣿⣷⢿⡿⠿⢈⡿⣷⠏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠒⠒⠚⠛⠲⠖⠛⠉⠉⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣆⠐⢤⣉⣻⣞⣄⣴⣿⡿⠃⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠿⠿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠉⠉⠉⠉⠈⠁⣠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠿⡿⠿⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⡜⠀⠀⢀⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡟⠢⢤⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠀⠀⡰⠃⡀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⣼⣟⠀⢦⠼⠃⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⡠⠊⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⢀⡤⣴⠏⢠⣾⠏⢘⣆⣀⣤⡤⠴⠚⡇⠀⡇⠀⠘⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠁⡠⠊⠀⢰⠁⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠅⣰⠏⣼⠏⢀⣿⡏⢠⠏⢀⡿⠓⣤⡀⢠⠁⢠⡇⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⡰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⢋⡤⠊⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⣰⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣏⣴⡿⠀⣾⡟⠀⠘⣶⡟⠻⣶⣬⣯⢸⠀⡾⡆⢰⢇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠐⢁⡤⠀⠀⣴⣤⠾⠛⠁⣀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡆⠀⣿⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣹⡟⡇⢸⡿⠁⠀⠀⠈⠷⡦⠤⢀⠼⢿⣾⡗⠁⣨⡞⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢀⡀⠀⢀⡇⢠⣾⣿⠀⣠⡞⢰⣿⠀⠀⣾⣿⡇⣸⣿⠀⢀⣾⡟⣿⡟⠀⢱⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⢀⡟⣻⠀⠀⣿⣇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣉⠀⠀⣸⣠⢾⠁⡇⣴⣿⠃⣼⢿⠀⢰⣿⢻⣷⣿⣿⡇⠸⡟⠀⣿⠃⠀⠸⡿⠀⠐⠀⠠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⡆⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣤⣿⣏⣨⡼⠁⡼⡄⢸⣿⣿⠃⢸⢹⡀⣸⠁⠀⠈⠀⠀⢀⢠⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠄⡇⢳⣼⡟⠁⠀⠈⠈⣧⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣂⠥⠄⠒⠒⠠⢌⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⣿⣆⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⢇⠈⣏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠺⠀⠐⣠⣶⡽⠶⠶⠶⢶⣶⣶⡾⠧⠤⠒⠦⣀⣼⣷⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⡀⠘⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠾⠿⠥⠤⠤⠤⠤⠼⣏⣤⣴⠒⠚⠒⠢⣈⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠙⢦⡈⠓⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠦⣉⠲⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠒⠒⢿⡿⠿⠂⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣶⢿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠱⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⣜⠻⡛⢿⣶⣤⣤⣤⣴⣿⣧⣀⡀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠈⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣌⠲⣝⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡿⢿⣮⣳⡿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣦⡽⡿⠀⢀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠙⠢⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠢⢄⣀⠀⢀⡿⢡⣇⢀⠇⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠈⠀⠉⠉⠉⠛⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠋⢹⡿⠃⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠒⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣱⣄⢀⣔⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣾⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡞⠁⢪⠋⠏⠙⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿ ⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠛⠓⠒⠊⠉⠐⠒⠛⡆⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿

⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡔⠒⠒⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢧⠿⣶⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⢠⣆⠘⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⣷⠈⠻⣦⠑⢲⣤⣤⣠⡇⠀⣿⣿⡆⠈⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠸⡦⠀⠙⢳⡾⠃⠀⣸⣷⣄⢹⣿⠃⠀⢸⣿⡘⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢱⢀⠔⠋⠀⣠⣾⠃⠀⠉⠺⠃⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠙⡦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣏⠞⢹⢠⠋⠉⠁⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⢼⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢨⡏⠀⡞⢸⡔⢐⡆⠀⠈⠲⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠹⣿⠓⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢘⣷⣤⠇⢸⠁⢒⡶⠦⡶⢤⡈⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠈ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠏⠀⠀⣳⠟⠛⠋⠀⠀⣿⠓⠶⢤⠀⠀⠀⠙⠀⠀⠀⠈⡅⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡠⠃⠀⠀⢀⡳⠴⣄⣵⡆⢶⣿⡄⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡔⢁⡄⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⢲⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⠀⢀⠃⠀⠀ ⣠⠊⡠⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀ ⢷⣾⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠎⣀⡴⠏⠁⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⢀⡌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠙⠿⣁⣀⣀⣤⣴⠞⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⣏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⢰⠛⠉⠳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠴⠒⠒⠒⠒⠤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠉⠙⠻⣧⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⣠⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠶⢻⢷⣤⡀⠀⠈⢧⡀⠀⣷⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⢣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⢸⠀⠙⢿⡄⠀⠀⢱⣴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⣠⠴⡶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⣀⣀⣴⡛⠳⣄⠀⠙⣦⣄⣠⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢁⣴⢧⡈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⣏⢀⡼⠁⢹⠀⠉⠉⢙⣳⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠲⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠋⡇⠀⠙⢷⣌⠓⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠞⠁⠀⣨⠏⠀⣠⡼⠲⡶⣶⠋⢹⡗⣦⣀⣀⡀⣀⣀⣤⠀⠈⢳⡀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⢀⡞⠉⢳⣤⠞⠁⢠⠏⠙⠦⡀⠙⢧⠚⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⠚⠁⠀⣀⣴⠞⠁⣠⠞⡿⠀⢀⡇⠸⣤⣸⡶⠿⣇⣶⡇⠻⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⡏⠀⢹⡄⢸⣧⠀⠘⡏⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠱⢬⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⣠⣶⣶⠟⠋⠁⢀⡴⠃⣰⠁⢀⣾⠀⣠⠟⠋⢳⡶⠛⢥⡀⠀⠀⠀⡤⢶⣶⡋⠸⡇⠀⠈⣿⡟⢹⠀⠀⣿⡶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣾⣿⣏⠓⠤⣄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡤⠞⠁⣠⣾⠟⠁⠀⣠⡤⠖⠋⠀⢠⠧⣄⡞⠈⡿⠁⠀⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⣷⡀⠀⣼⠁⢸⣀⣿⠖⣇⠀⠀⣿⣿⠶⡇⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢏⠹⣟⠊⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠓⠒⣻⠿⠃⣠⠖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⣖⠁⣠⠏⠀⢸⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⠀⡾⠁⠉⢉⡇⠀⡜⠉⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⢻⠁⠀⣼⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⡘⢦⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡠⠞⢁⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠘⠷⠤⢼⣀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠀⢀⡞⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢸⠀⠀⢸⡖⠒⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣏⠓⢤⣀ ⣤⠖⠋⣀⠴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⡞⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡷⠒⠺⡇⠀⠀⣇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠒⠒ ⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣀⣀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⢿⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣇⠀⢹⠀⠀⢸⡄⣸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⢸⠀⠀⢸⡏⠉⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠾⡇⠀⠘⡇⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠀⢳⠀⠀⠹⣤⣼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⣇⣀⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡤⠒⣢⣵⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠚⠉⠀⠀⣸⣿⣉⠃⠑⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣀⣀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠤⠤⠖⠒⠺⠛⠛⣿⠀⢀⣠⣤⣛⣛⠻⣷⡄⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠛⠛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠚⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⡏⠙⣿⣯⠉⠛⣫⣤⣿⣷⠃⣸⢧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⣠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠈⢿⣿⣾⣷⣶⡿⠛⢰⠇⠀⠀⠙⠲⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠀⢀⣠⠄⠀⠀ ⣷⠀⣿⣇⢀⣠⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠘⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⢠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⠲⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣼⡗⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣄⠸⠿⠟⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣽⡀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣤⣼⣇⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣦⣙⢦⡀⣶⣿⣿⣏⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠉⢁⣶⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⡴⠞⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⠒⠶⠤⣄⣼⣇⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡳⠈⣯⢳⣷⣯⢿⢹⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣾⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣔⣮⣿⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠻⣶⣶⣶⢋⣷⣞⢳⡏⡿⢰⣿⣿⠹⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠉⠛⣹⣷⣠⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⣿⡿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠽⣡⡴⣶⣿⠰⢤⠀⢹⣿⠟⢾⣁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡿⠿⠛⣿⡋⠉⠀⢶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣻⡏⠀⠀⢰⠟⠀⠀⣠⠟⣏⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⢉⠙⠛⠛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠙⠛⠙⢿⡙⣛⣿⢿⣄⣯⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡧⠀⢤⣬⣿⣿⢿⣿⠆⠀⠀⣸⣷⣿⠁⠀⢀⡏⠀⣨⢾⣅⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠰⣆⠀⠈⢻⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡈⣿⣧⣴⡆⢿⣷⠲⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⡄⠈⠉⠈⢿⣦⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡟⡿⠀⠀⣼⡵⠊⠁⠀⠈⠉⢻⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⣧⣀⣠⣼⣶⠖⠈⡇⠈⣿⠈⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⣻⣘⢿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢀⡴⠋⠋⢸⢿⡇⠀⢠⣿⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⡀⠈⣧⠀⠰⡄⠀⢸⡇⠈⢯⣹⠀⠘⣧⠀⢹⡄⢸⡀⠀⠀⣿⡏⢿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣝⠻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⠠⣀⣀⠴⣫⠀⢀⣠⣾⢸⡇⠀⢻⢿⡁⠀⣼⣿⡿⣿⡷⣾⡄⠀⢹⡄⢸⡇⠤⣬⣿⣄⣀⡈⢳⡀⢷⣸⠀⠀⢰⣿⡇⢸⡿⠿⠿⠿⠛⢿⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡀⠀⣀⣠⣤⠘⣛⣤⠀⠉⠉⣩⣿⡿⢻⡯⢸⡇⠀⢸⠀⢁⡀⢿⣧⣀⣾⡇⠀⢻⡀⢸⡛⢾⡇⠛⣿⣿⢿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣼⣸⡟⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠇⠀⠹⣿⣿⡆⢹⣿⣤⣴⢞⣽⡿⠁⣼⣷⠈⣿⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠻⣮⣧⠈⠓⠀⣿⣤⣬⣿⡇⠀⡽⢟⡿⠀⢠⠇⣿⢷⣄⠘⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣍⢻⣶⣤⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⡦⠟⢉⣡⣿⣟⡁⣼⡟⢸⣦⠛⣧⡈⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠄⠀⠀⠙⠿⠿⠟⠀⠄⢀⣾⠁⢀⡾⢠⣿⣔⣯⠹⣍⣉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣦ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⠟⠌⣸⣿⡇⠈⣿⠀⡟⣷⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡏⣠⣟⣁⣿⠁⢠⡙⣷⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣽⣻⠋⠀⢰⣿⣿⠃⠀⡟⠀⣧⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠏⠉⠒⠒⠒⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣾⠋⡋⢹⡻⣤⣤⣧⠙⣶⣶⠿⣄⣠⣄⠀⠀⠙⣿⡿⠟⠋ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠃⠁⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⡇⠀⢹⣿⣿⢹⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠈⠷⣀⣀⣀⠼⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠖⠉⠉⢿⣿⣰⣧⣶⣿⡘⠿⠛⠀⠿⣏⣠⠏⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠟⠀⠀⠀⡼⣽⡟⠉⢻⣿⠀⠀⢻⣿⠀⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⠃⠘⣿⣿⣯⢹⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⡴⠚⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠁⢸⣽⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣧⣞⡻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣄⣴⣤⡞⠛⣏⢸⡀⠀⢯⡇⣶⣾⠋⠙⢾⡇⠀⢸⡏⠀⢀⣿⢿⣿⡇⠈⠻⣝⠒⠖⠚⣉⡡⠴⠟⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣤⠞⣿⢏⣷⠢⢍⡉⠉⠁⠉⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡿⡞⢣⠀⡸⡆⢷⣿⡿⠛⠿⢿⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠸⣯⣭⣭⣾⣿⡏⠁⠀⠀⠘⣦⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣽⣲⠤⢀⣀⠀⠘⡿⣆⠠⠊⠙⡆⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡟⢠⡇⠸⢿⣿⣧⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⢸⣶⣶⡟⣧⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠠⠤⣿⣄⣤⡀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⢽⣖⡗⢩⠛⢦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡤⢿⣿⣭⣽⣿⣿⣽ ⣶⣿⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢸⣿⣿⣆⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⣀⡼⢻⠈⠉⢁⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀⠉⣿⣿⡍⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋ ⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠖⠋⠁⢸⡀⠿⠏⣿⡆⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠈⢷⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡇⢸⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣿⣋⣥⣾⣿ ⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣹⡶⠖⠋⠘⣆⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⣷⢸⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠁⠀⠐⠲⠶⠒⠚⣳⣶⣶⢶⡞⠋⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠸⣧⡀⠹⣿⡿⠟⢋⣵⠋⠹⡝⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⣿⢸⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⡟⣼⠁⢀⢈⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡿⠓⣿⡶⣺⡯⠙⠖⢶⣻⡦⣝⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⠦⣤⣀⡿⢀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢫⣿⣿⣷⠟⢀⣭⣿⣿⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡘⠧⣭⣭⠤⣴⡆⢠⣹⠷⡎⢷⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠤⣲⣶⣿⣇⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛ ⣒⣙⣛⣓⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣾⢟⣻⣿⣿⣯⡳⣄⠀⠀⠈⢧⡀⠀⢸⠀⣿⡇⢸⠏⠛⠓⠚⠃⠀⠻⠿⠁⠀⣴⡿⣿⠃⠀⣿⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⢟⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡿⢿⠟⣿⣿⠈⠳⣝⡷⢦⣤⣈⣷⡀⢸⡆⠿⣡⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⣱⠃⠀⢰⠏⡾⠀⠀⠀⢠⣯⣧⣸⡜⢿⣄⡙⢿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣯⡟⠀⠀⠈⠙⠇⣠⣴⣭⣭⡀⣻⠞⠁⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣻⠃⠀⡰⠋⠀⡇⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣦⣉⠛⠷⣄⡀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⢿⣟⠟⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣯⣄⣀⣨⣽⣿⠛⠛⠛⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⣫⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡇⢀⡴⢻⣿⣿⣿⣯⡧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣬⣟⣂⣀

⠀⠀⠀⣿⣇⣾⣾⣟⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣵⣾⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡟⠺⡟⣧⣏⠓⣤⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣏⢹⡏⠗⢴⡈⣿⣿⣯⣭⣭⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣏⡏⠻⣬⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⢯⡷⢄⣸⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠋⠛⠛⢿⣿⣭⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣤⢷⢈⣿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠸⡿⣟⣼⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡏⠹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢫⡸⢿⣿⣿⣞⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⣿⣿⠉⠑⠻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⢻⡇⢿⣿⢿⡇⠀⠘⣿⡀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⣿⠟⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠈⣧⣤⣿⣴⣿⣶⣤⡸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⢄⣿⢿⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⣼⣿⠗⢞⠙⣆⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠹⣏⢹⠁⠀⢠⣼⠻⠟⠄⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⠂⠀⠀⢀⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⠿⣻⡀⡿⢋⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠓⠦⢼⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣠⠤⢥⣤⡄⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⠿⠛⠧⡈⠢⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣔⢒⣾⡏⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⢑⣾⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣟⠶⣿⣿⠋⣿⡿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣖⠢⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣷⣿⠡⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⠁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠷⠚⠃⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⣀⡤⠄⠤⠄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠞⡇⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡰⠉⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⣿⡿⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⢈⣲⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠖⠁⠀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢀⠴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠔⠒⠉⡉⠉⠏⣁⣤⣤⣼⣷⣦⣤⣀⣤⣾⣅⣈⡇⢀⡼⣿⡿⠿⢿⢿⢏⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣶⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣠⣅⠀⠀⣸⡠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠈⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⣀⠤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣀⣧⣀⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⢈⢁⣈⣉⠙⠻⣿⣿⡟⠋⠁⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⠶⡶⣶⢦⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠋⠈⠉⣠⣾⣿⣿⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡄⢠⣚⣻⣿⣐⣲⠭⡒⢤⡙⡇⠀⠀⡰⢚⡽⠚⠏⢉⣵⠘⠈⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⠔⠂⣹⠇⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠘⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠢⡑⢈⢳⡀⡜⡴⠁⠀⠄⡧⢄⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀ ⢀⡀⢀⠔⢋⡜⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⢻⢧⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠈⢢⣱⣿⡽⠁⠀⠉⠐⣀⡄⢠⢠⢤⠅⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⢿⠿⡿⢿⠿⠿⣛⠿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⠁⢰⣷⠀⠀⠘⠿⠆⠸⠛⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠀⠤⠕⠀⠀⠀⠐⠂⠀⣠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⣿⢦⣴⢱⡎⡑⣦⣲⡤⢤⣄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⣿⣶⣶⡖⠂⢹⣿⣧⠀⠀⠠⠀⠈⠉⣁⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡅⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣷⣾⠀⠀⢠⡏⠹⠸⣀⡇⠀⠀⠈⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡏⢰⢻⠟⠉⠉⢹⠛⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡌⢿⡇⠀⡦⠴⠀⠀⡌⠈⢸⠀⠀⠀⢀⡧⠔⠣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⠃⠘⣿⠀⢠⠀⠆⠐⣀⠠⠼⣠⢔⠮⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠎⠀⠀⠉⡂⠔⠱⠚⠈⠀⠀⠀⢨⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀ ⠀⡘⠀⢀⠄⠋⠀⠀⠐⡐⠤⠀⣤⡀⠚⠒⠒⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀ ⢠⠡⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠃⠤⠤⠤⠄⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣖⠒⠭⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⢠⢀⣴⢞⠉⠁⠐⠒⠉⢙⣛⣶⡞⠓⠒⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣷⣿⣹⣷⣏⢀⣀⣠⠴⠊⠉⠁⠈⢉⣷⡴⢄⡹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠛⢁⣜⣟⣿⡄⢸⣏⠭⠤⠤⠔⠒⣠⠖⠉⠀⣹⡄⠙⣽⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠁⢀⡞⠈⢸⢈⣷⣾⡉⠓⠶⠶⠶⠿⠂⠀⠀⣀⡿⢧⠀⡏⢻⠶⠤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⡇⠀⡾⠀⠀⡎⢸⢿⣿⡕⢀⠀⢠⣶⣀⣸⣧⡾⠟⣒⣾⡄⢹⡼⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⣷⢰⠇⠀⠀⡇⠀⣼⣧⠙⠳⣄⡿⣼⣿⢿⠛⢿⡿⣾⣿⡇⠈⣇⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⣺⣿⢻⣿⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⣿⡟⢷⣄⠰⣿⣿⣆⢈⣳⣤⣉⠀⠘⢾⡀⢈⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⡏⠀⣿⣴⠀⢸⠀⢸⢹⢿⣾⣿⡿⢿⠿⡻⢿⣍⠙⠪⡳⢄⣴⡇⢸⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⢣⢻⠀⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢸⣯⠀⣿⠉⠁⠀⠀⠻⣦⡳⣧⠀⠈⠉⠙⣥⢯⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢟⣮⡴⠛⣿⡄⢣⢀⢸⠁⠑⢼⣀⣀⡠⠄⢸⡿⠿⢢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣣⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⡜⡞⣞⣦⠶⠷⠦⠤⠴⠶⠒⠛⢭⠒⠮⠤⠤⠤⣀⣏⠀⠈⠙⠲⢤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⡼⣿⠀⣼⣟⣿⢷⠈⢮⠻⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠔⠋⠉⠉⠉⠐⠲⡿⣓⢄⣀⠔⠉⠀⠀⠉⡕⠢⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⡰⠁⣸⠟⠉⠀⠀⡇⠀⣳⡀⢳⢯⡛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⠤⣄⡀⢠⠞⠀⣠⠀⠈⠲⣄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⠞⣡⠼⠋⠀⠀⠀⣠⠃⣠⡾⣿⣠⣨⡿⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢍⠛⠉⠻⣗⢶⣄⠈⢧⠀ ⠀⢐⣾⣣⡾⠁⠀⠉⠢⢤⣞⣥⢶⣻⡾⠛⠉⠉⢀⣀⡽⣷⣔⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠈⢆⠙⠑⢤⡇ ⠀⡾⢋⣿⠃⡇⠀⠀⢠⠏⢁⣠⣾⣿⣤⣀⣾⢱⣼⣘⡇⣿⣕⢧⡀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⣰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡀⢠⣨⠇ ⠀⣧⢸⣻⠀⢧⠀⠀⠙⠀⠛⣹⣿⠩⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⢺⣽⠿⠿⡿⣓⡶⢮⣝⣛⠀⠈⡇⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀⢀⡤⠟⠁⠀ ⠀⠙⠒⡇⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢸⣸⣯⣿⣾⣿⣯⠻⢷⡝⢿⣭⣭⡷⣖⠉⠉⠀⢰⣷⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠕⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⠼⠁⠀⣦⣷⡄⠀⣀⡠⠿⢟⡛⣻⣽⣭⡶⣾⡖⣿⡻⢍⣿⣿⢿⡋⠁⠀⠀⠨⣿⡞⣠⠴⠒⠒⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⡦⢄⡀⠘⣽⣿⢾⣷⣟⣾⣿⣽⣿⣿⡏⣟⣿⡿⣿⣿⣻⡿⣿⣷⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⠂⠤⣀⣀⠙⡟⠈⠈⠡⠾⣿⣫⣿⣿⣇⢿⣻⢿⠿⠿⠦⢗⡽⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣻⠀⠀⢀⠀⢰⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠱⠿⣟⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⠃⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠑⠒⠒⠊⠉⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⠧⢾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⢶⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣦⣐⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡠⠤⠴⠛⠒⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⢺⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⢇⠉⠙⠒⠄⠀⠀⢿⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡴⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⢽⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠤⠤⠔⠒⠚⠉⠉⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢲⠒⠒⠚⠉⢀⣿⣤⡭⡿⢿⣿⣿⡟⠶⠷⠷⠶⠦⢤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣵⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣆⠀⠀⢠⣿⣟⣉⢣⣤⣤⣹⣿⣧⣤⣰⣀⣀⣀⡄⢠⠀⠠⠀⠘⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠲⡶⢾⡿⠛⠉⠉⠉⠙⠻⣿⡿⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⢿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢩⡿⠧⠤⠤⣀⣀⡀⠐⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢹⢿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠟⠛⠛⠿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⣶⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠛⠉⠉⠙⢿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠛⠲⢦⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⣿⠟⠁⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣼⠟⠅⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⢽⣧⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣆⠀ ⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡀ ⠹⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇ ⠀⠈⢻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠟⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⠖⠚⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠒⠤⣄⡀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠖⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠳⣄⠀ ⠀⠀⣀⠤⠔⠒⠒⠒⠦⢤⣀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⢶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠉⢢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆ ⢠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⢹⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀⣧ ⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣦⣼⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡀⢀⡟ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡿⠿⠿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡛⣟⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠞⠀ ⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⡄⢴⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣷⡏⠀⢀⡠⠤⣄⠀⠀⣇⠀ ⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠁⣀⡤⠤⠤⠤⢌⣉⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠀⡱⠀⢸⡄ ⠀⠀⠙⠦⣀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣅⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⢘⣧ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢲⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣰⣋⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠒⢤⣀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⢰⠏⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⣸⠀⠀⢀⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠘⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⣣⠃⠀⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠞⡱⠋⢀⡴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠣⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠖⢋⡠⠞⢁⡴⠋⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠢⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠯⠭⢉⠡⠤⠴⠒⣉⠴⠚⠁⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢹⠖⠲⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢶⡖⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠲⠤⠤⠤⠤⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠑⠒⠒⠋⠂⠐⠒⠀⠀⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⡖⠒⠒⢶⡒⠒⢤⡴⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣾⣋⠀⠄⢀⣉⡦⠴⠓⠒⠲⠇⠀⡿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡾⢁⡤⠒⠒⣶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠁⣇⠀⠀⢀⡀⣠⠖⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⢸⠀⠀⢠⠇⢀⡴⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠸⡀⢠⢋⡟⠁⡼⣁⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢱⠘⡄⠀⠈⡇⠘⣟⢸⣏⢳⣶⣦⠀⡞⠀⣧⣏⣈⢀⡼⠋⢁⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠳⡘⢄⣀⡼⠀⠹⢿⣿⡿⠀⢀⡜⠀⢸⣿⠃⣼⡊⢀⣔⡁⠀⢀⡤⠔⠒⠒⠒⠶⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⣎⠻⡳⠴⠀⣀⠀⣤⢶⠎⠀⣠⡿⡏⠐⢁⠟⣁⣤⣿⣚⡁⠤⠤⠄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡜⢄⠀⡹⠀⡶⠃⣠⢞⠟⢰⠃⢰⣟⡿⢨⣽⡯⠔⠒⠒⢤⡀⠀⠙⢢⡀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣴⡶⢦⢈⢿⠈⣄⡇⡼⢁⠞⡱⠃⠀⡎⠀⢉⣥⡀⠋⣀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⢱⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢿⡳⠤⠊⢸⢀⡝⢠⡷⢃⠜⠀⠀⡜⡀⠀⢧⠈⠛⠲⢽⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⡞⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⠒⠒⠛⠉⠀⢸⠃⡌⠀⠀⡜⠀⣷⠒⠺⡷⢄⠀⠚⢢⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⡞⢀⡜⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⡇⠀⢸⡇⠤⣼⠀⠀⠘⡌⢣⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⢀⡞⠀⢀⠌⡠⠊⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⡀⣓⡾⠛⡆⠀⠀⢣⠀⡇⠀⠘⡄⢠⠎⠀⣠⣣⠊⠀⣠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢃⠏⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⡇⢀⠇⠀⠀⣧⡏⠀⣰⡟⢡⠔⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡏⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⢸⣤⠞⠀⠀⢀⡿⡄⢠⠻⡅⠈⠓⠒⠒⠒⣒⣺⣯⣑⢲⣄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠈⠓⠳⠽⠦⠤⠒⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠒⠉⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⠴⠴⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⡾⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠿⢶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡶⠟⠋⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⠶⢦⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⡃⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠁⢀⣀⣤⠾⠟⠛⣿⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⢀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠁⠀⠹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⡶⠚⠿⣶⠾⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⣠⣾⢷⣤⡀⠈⠷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡾⠋⠀⠀⣀⣠⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⡀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⠀⣼⣿⡄⠀⠈⠙⠳⢦⣄⣛⠿⣧⣿⣧⣤⠶⠞⠛⠉⠀⠈⠉⠛⢶⣄⠀⠀⠙⠓⠶⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠙⠒⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣠⡏⢘⣧⣀⣀⣀⡆⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠋⠉⡷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣹⡿⠶⣦⣤⣀⣀⣀⡽⠓⢶⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡇⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢹⣷⣶⣤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢻⡀⠠⣠⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⡄⠀⠻⢿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠂⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⢀⣴⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠚⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣟⣲⠆⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⢁⣴⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣭⡿⠿⣦⣄⣀⠀⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⡶⢿⣋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⣹⢿⣥⣄⣀⣀⠉⠙⠛⠿⠶⢶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⠶⠾⠿⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⡤⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠈⠉⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠻⣤⣼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣇⣠⡴⠶⠛⠉⠁⠀⠉⠻⢶⣄⡀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣟⠉⢻⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢷⣤⠼⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⣤⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢤⠤⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡜⠻⠿⢾⣷⠹⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⡎⠁⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⡠⠞⠛⠛⠻⢽⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⡀⠀⢀⠀⢂⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠜⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠸⠀⠤⢄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣗⣄⠀⠠⡀⢢⠃⠀⢸⠌⠀⡠⢊⠀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣈⣲⣕⣦⡈⠢⣻⡀⡎⢀⣴⡢⠑⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠃ ⠀⣴⠿⠽⠏⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⢒⣺⣷⣗⣉⣁⣀⣀⣀⠀⠠⠤⠐⠈⠀⠀ ⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⡖⠁⣿⢳⡬⡁⠒⠒⠤⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⢦⡀⠀⠀⡀⠄⠂⠁⠊⠀⢰⣯⡏⠎⢌⠑⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⡻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣲⡟⡟⠀⠀⠀⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢧⣤⡄⡀⠀⢀⡔⣽⠃⢧⡄⠀⠀⠀⠰⣀⠀⠀⣀⠞⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⠬⠥⠔⠋⡜⡌⠀⠘⣿⣦⣀⠀⡀⡇⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⡰⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠯⠥⠒⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠊⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣛⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠧⠤⢾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⡀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠞⠃⠀⠀⢿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡿⠙⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣠⡶⠤⠿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢲⣤⠮⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⣾⡿⣫⢾⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠞⣩⠞⣫⡾⣡⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠞⣉⡴⠋⣡⡾⢋⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠖⠋⣁⡴⠞⠉⣠⠞⢁⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠈⠻⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡴⠖⠋⠁⣠⠴⠚⠉⢀⡰⠞⠁⣠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣦⡀⣀⣠⣤⡶⠶⠛⠋⠉⣹⠇⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡤⠖⠒⠋⠉⠀⣠⡴⠒⠉⠀⢀⣠⠖⠋⢀⡤⠎⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠒⠊⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⣀⣤⠔⠚⠉⠁⠀⢀⣠⠖⠋⠁⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠁⢀⣠⣤⠤⠒⠚⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠚⠉⠀⠀⣠⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⠴⠒⠉⠁⠀⠀⣀⠴⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⣀⣀⡤⠴⠒⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣴⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢻⣞⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠛⠿⠷⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣄⠀⠀⣠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⠶⢤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⡖⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⠈⠻⡛⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠾⢿⣥⡀⠀⡈⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠋⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣧⡾⠉⠙⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠺⣷⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠀⣠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⡄⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⣰⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⠙⠶⠶⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢶⣄⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣤⣿⡋⠀⠀⠀⣯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠙⠷⠞⠛⣹⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠉⠙⣇⣰⠓⠚⠻⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡶⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠶⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠿⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠻⢯⡄⢠⣽⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⣼⠟⠒⠒⠛⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠏⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢛⡃⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠖⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠘⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠒⠒⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢯⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⢀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠠⢯⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀ ⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⣷⣾⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀ ⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⡏⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇ ⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁ ⢹⡀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀ ⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠢⢄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⡤⠖⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠒⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠒⠲⠦⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⠎⠉⠉⢦⠶⠛⠉⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⣴⢲⠼⠶⢄⣀⣼⣇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⡀⢘⣯⠀⠀⢸⠶⡀⠀⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠈⠑⠒⣏⠉⢀⡜⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣯⣤⣴⣶⡶⠒⣲⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣯⣭⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠐⠒⠚⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠺⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠉⠁ ⠀⠀⠤⢿⣿⣿⣡⣴⣾⣿⣿⡿⣕⣲⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠒⠂⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⠿⣿⡛⠿⠿⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠿⠿⠛⣻⡿⠷⢄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠈⠙⠲⠦⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⠴⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣶⣶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⠿⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⡿⠁⣀⣠⣤⣤⣄⠀⢠⣴⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣽⣿⡇⠈⠉⢿⠿⠻⠁⠀⢿⠙⠋⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣏⢿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣦⣸⡇⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣬⣭⡴⢾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢁⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⣳⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣍⡿⣿⣶⣦⣷⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣼⣻⣿⣿⣿⣦⡝⠻⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⠿⢻⣟⣯⡬⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⣛⠛⣯⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣿⣿⢳⡠⠝⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⢿⣿⣾⣆⢿⣯⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣸⣿⣿⣟⣯⡿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣿⣾⠿⢻⡟⢿⣿⡟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢫⣹⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⣿⢿⡜⢿⡟⢷⣹⣷⣿⣿⢿⡿⣶⡌⡇⣿⡇⡝⣿⡛⣻⣿⣻⢿⣯⣿⣟⡆⠀⠀ ⢸⡿⣷⣧⢸⡏⠋⠙⣿⣿⣇⣾⣿⣿⣇⢻⣽⣷⢰⣿⣧⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣏⢹⣿⡇⠀ ⢸⣧⢿⣿⣧⣿⣠⣀⢹⣿⣏⣿⣼⣷⢹⢸⣿⣝⠘⢁⠈⣿⡾⢱⢃⣿⣿⣼⣭⣁⡀ ⣸⣿⡼⣯⣗⢾⣤⣜⣫⣿⣴⡿⢿⠛⢼⣻⣿⣿⣀⣤⣸⣟⣇⡿⠼⠼⠷⠆⠀⠨⢿ ⣿⣟⣳⣿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠻⢿⡏⠀⠈⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠲⠀⣾ ⢻⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠛⠓⠦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡇ ⢾⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠓⠦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡤⠞⠁ ⠀⠉⠙⣿⣿⣄⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠭⠛⣓⣶⣶⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣴⣦⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣄⣤⣶⣶⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⠛⠻⠻⡿⣿⣿⢿⣿⠉⣿⣿⡏⢹⢻⢻⡟⢸⣻⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣝⡄⡀⢰⣃⠈⣿⠈⡿⠀⣟⢹⡇⠈⣼⣿⣧⣾⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽⣦⣽⣼⣟⣺⣯⣬⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣦⣄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢾⣷⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀