As the temperature soared, the meteorological office issued a red alert.

The temperature had hovered around 95 degrees Fahrenheit for a week, pushing Owen's research to the brink of a breakthrough after relentless calculation and verification.

Finally catching a break, Owen was exhausted and trudged to his seventh-floor apartment, looking forward to a good night's sleep to recharge. However, a sudden noise from across the hallway halted his steps.

Pausing, he turned and knocked on the door opposite his. "Roseanne, are you in there?"

There was no response. Owen knocked again, but still nothing.

Hesitating for a second and contemplating whether to call for help, he heard the door unlocking. Roseanne peeked out, leaving the door just ajar.

"What's up?" Her demeanor was casual as if the knock had merely interrupted her day, her voice as calm as ever, betraying no sign of distress.

Yet, Owen couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off, like a rose wilting without water.

He was silent for a moment under Roseanne's puzzled gaze.

he spoke, "You mentioned you worked on a paper last time.

submitted it two weeks ago. I've been reviewing and waiting

a work in progress. Would you be interested in taking

Roseanne was surprised.

Roseanne scanned

wasn't breaking new ground topic-wise but approached the subject from a novel angle. The verification

asked Owen, "Is this

it

felt a mix

ovel met

years later. It

kept asking, "Why

thought could perfect it. Look. These two sections lack solid experimental data to back the. conclusions. After switching my

regret

"Then why show it

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