She him because he always kept talking.

—Great. If I were him, I       the wrong decision then.

    Coffee is the smell of childhood at my grandma's house, and the(pleasure) smell spread the house as she told me (story) of being a migrant from Europe after the war — she always said she found not having real coffee (hard) than learning English. Coffee is my dad and mum (watch) ABC News after dinner every night.

    It is travelling from Adelaide to Hobart with my brother in his car, camping as we (run) out of money, and spending the money we just earned a bottle of beer atstart of our trip. Coffee is me on a Sunday morning, as a little girl, lying (cosy) in bed with my kitties and reading the newspapers. And now it is me going to work in a coffee bar (base) in Tasmania and making people's days a bit better with my job.  also related to coffee is a saying: First cup you are a visitor, second cup you are a friend and by the third cup you are family.

    I always felt sorry for the people in wheelchairs. Some people, old and weak, cannot get around by themselves. Others seem perfectly healthy, dressed in business suits. But whenever I saw someone in a wheelchair, I only saw a disability，not a person.

    Then I fainted(昏倒) at Euro Disney due to low blood pressure. This was the first time I had ever fainted, and my parents said that I must rest for a while after first aid. I agreed to take it easy, but as I stepped toward the door, I saw my dad pushing a wheelchair in my direction! Feeling the colour burn my cheeks, I asked him to wheel that thing right back to where he found it.

    I could not believe this was happening to me. Wheelchairs were fine for other people but not for me. As my father wheeled me out into the main street, people immediately began to treat me differently.

    Little kids ran in front of me, forcing my father to stop the wheelchair suddenly. Bitterness set in as I was thrown back and forth.

    ＂Stupid kids! They have perfectly good legs. Why can't they watch where they are going？＂I thought. People stared down at me，pity in their eyes. Then they would look away, maybe because they thought the sooner they forgot me the better.

    ＂I'm just like you！＂ I wanted to scream. ＂The only difference is that you've got legs，and I have wheels.＂

    People in wheelchairs are not stupid. They see every look and hear each word. Looking out at the faces, I finally understood: I was once just like them. I treated people in wheelchairs exactly the way they did not want to be treated. I realized it is some of us with two healthy legs who are truly disabled.