“Miss Miho, are you dating anybody?” Mr. Watanabe asked me one morning. “I want to introduce you to my grandson.” 

“I’ve decided,” I stated, “that I would be alone the rest of my life.” 

“What? Has life scared you?”

They said Mr. Watanabe used to be an elementary school teacher. And though I had known him for only a month, working in this nursing home, he’d already become like a favorite teacher to me. “I’m a difficult person to be with,” I sighed. “Everyone I dated has said I do everything too perfectly. It’s exhausting for them to even be in the same room. One man broke up with me before we even went on our first date.”

This was the first time I had said this out loud. 

“Miss Miho,” Mr. Watanabe said gently, “I am blind, but thanks to your help, I can enjoy a morning walk. I am almost deaf, but you still talk to me every day. And because of the tumor in my brain, I can barely taste any food. Yet, your meat stew is so soft on my tongue, I look forward to having it every week. That said, while I couldn’t say whether the others are right or wrong about you, I think you are a fine person, just as you are.”

To this day, nobody has ever said anything like that to me.

“People have all kind of opinions about others,” he continued. “But those are just that, opinions. And opinions are not the truth. I have come to know your heart, Miss Miho, and already, I consider myself lucky to have met you. All that’s left is for you to have confidence in yourself as well.”