Answer: Any two: the key "still warm in his hand" (personal connection and responsibility); the birds that "argue in the fig trees" (continuity of nature regardless of human change); the gate held open (care, service, welcome); the electric hum (cold efficiency); being looked at (recognition).

Answer: She is the only character who truly sees Elias. Her perspective could reveal what his care meant to an ordinary person, and her return to the empty gate could carry the story's sense of loss with a child's directness.

Answer: It tells feelings directly (nice, sad) instead of showing them, and it loses the source's subtle style, motifs and quiet tone. It simply retells events without adding new insight or filling any gap.

Answer: Model: "The man at the gate always had the key ready before I reached him, as if he had been listening for my shoes on the path. That morning his hand shook a little when he turned it. I didn't know then that you could say goodbye to someone without either of you using the word."

Answer: Different documents would contrast official, impersonal language with private, emotional voices, sharpening the story's conflict between efficiency and human care. The gaps between documents could also invite the reader to infer what is left unsaid.

Answer: Which transformation was chosen and why, the central ideas of the source that were kept or challenged, specific language and structural choices and their effects, and how the new piece adds to or questions the meaning of the original.

Model answer: Re-creation (the girl, years later): I am twenty-three when I walk past the gardens again, and the gate is open, as it always is now. It opens itself at six. It closes itself at dusk. It has never once been early. When I was nine, I thought the man with the key was part of the gardens, like the fig trees or the pond. I thought he grew there. Every morning he was waiting, and every morning he held the gate as if I were someone worth holding it for. I never asked his name. Children don't. You assume the people who are kind to you will simply keep existing. The last time I saw him, his hand shook when he turned the key. He said, "You're early," and I said, "So are you," and I thought I had been clever. I laughed at a duck. I didn't look back. The next morning the gate was open and there was no one inside it. I stood there for a long time, waiting for a voice that didn't come, until I understood that I would have to let myself in. I step through now. Above me, the birds are still arguing in the fig trees. I put my hand on the cold iron bar where his hand used to be, and for a moment it feels almost warm. Rationale: I shifted the perspective to the girl as an adult so that the story's central idea, the quiet value of being seen, could be reflected on with hindsight. I echoed the motifs of the warm key, the arguing birds and the self-opening gate to keep a clear connection to the source, and I filled its final silence by showing what the girl felt while waiting at the empty gate.