I. said goodbye at the door to my building and got into her car. When I went in, the elevator was on its way down. A white-haired woman in a black jacket came out of it. Because of the poverty of her dress and the meekness of her look, I thought she was a maid, and maybe she was. She surprised me when, as she greeted me, she said: "Are you the professor?" I told that's what people called me, but they were wrong. She then asked me if I led writing workshops, and when I said I did she told me that people had told her she should come to my workshops. She said she wrote, and she said it very bashfully, like someone confessing a sin. She also said she was sorry she couldn't attend my workshops because she had to work. She knew very well who I was, and she seemed to have read some of my books. As we were taking leave of each other, she called me "professor" again. I told her not to give me that title, because I was just a writer who tried to pass some of his experience on to a few students. She shook her head, saying as she walked off: "The greatest are always the humblest." I rejoiced, not because I think I'm great, but because of that woman's kindness. When a person is truly kind, he always finds a way to brighten other people's spirits.