Reiko deepened the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and looked at me for a time. “You’ve got this funny way of talking,” she sad. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to imitate that boy in Catcher in the Rye?”
"No way!" I said with a smile.
Reiko smiled too, cigarette in mouth. “You are a good person, though. I can tell that much from looking at you. I can tell these things after seven years of watching people come and go here: there are people who can open their hearts and people who can’t. You’re one of the ones who can. Or, more precisely, you can if you want to.”
"What happens when people open their hearts?"
Cigarette dangling from her lips, Reiko clasped her hands together on the table. She was enjoying this. “They get better,” she sad. Her ashes dropped onto the table, but she paid them no mind.
- from Norwegian Wood, Haruki Murakami