The boy finally reached the beach of the small lake, the moon barely visible through the trees, and was slightly startled to see the woman there. He had dreamed of talking to her alone for so long, that he wondered fleetingly if she was perhaps a hallucination. He could only stutter out "H-H-How, W-Why?" to which she replied, "Violet has been watching you come down to this beach night after night, and she seems to know it was me you wanted to talk to, not her." "Well, she was right" the boy managed to utter. "I'm sorry that I've startled you at school: I saw you taking glances at me when you knew I was watching, and I saw the moments of fear from the expression on your face; I hope I didn't scare you too much. But I love to watch you." "But what do you really want to say to me?", the woman inquired, "I know you wanted to really talk about something other than our observations of each other." "I...I just wanted to thank-you for what you did for me", the boy moaned, "I've never been given one like you gave me, and I've been desperate to tell you of my gratitude. I repressed my feelings, and it tore me up inside." The woman stared at him with that incredibly beautiful smile that always made him feel that he was in the presence of a very high level angel. She turned around and walked away, whispering over her back just loud enough for him to hear, "Thank-you for telling me. Neither of us could possibly foresee the positive results that your kind words will have on the world." She melted into the darkness, while he realized with a jolt that Violet must have told this woman what he had written in his letter to her, for the woman's second sentence was almost word for word for what he had said in a sentence of the letter.

The boy realized that he still had many revelations to reveal to others, repressed feelings that needed to be told to those he treasured, but nonetheless a great deal of the burden that had troubled his mind had lifted. He knew that as he got more and more of the burden of repressed feelings off his shoulder, he would begin to be able to lead the life of helping others he had always wanted to lead, but somehow had never been able to. He began to slowly make his way home, ruminating over the words in the small part of the woman's side of the conversation. He had never appreciated or loved her as much as he did now, and the memory of her beaming face now brought a smile to his own face, transforming it from its usual horrid state to something much better.