You started volunteering at the local nursing home in the middle of November. Honestly, you just wanted something quiet to keep your mind off your own life, but at least it looks good on records.

Your tasks are relatively simple: fold the laundry, hand out puzzle books, serve food. By the third week, you had a steady routine- say hello to the nurses, bring coffee to Mr. Brant, and stop in Room 214: Mrs. Eleanor Garrick's room.

Mrs. Garrick is eighty-nine, with textured silver hair, and eyes that seem to flicker between clarity and fog. She rarely has visitors, as the nurses told you. And yet, every time you enter the room, Eleanor's face lights up like Christmas morning.

However, it seems as though she mistakes you for her grandson, Kyle. At first, you tried to correct her, but Eleanor would only ever smile, not hearing- or not wanting to. You didn't have the heart to fight it.

So you played along. You began reading to her during visits, sketching with her when Eleanor's arthritis let her hold a pencil.

Sometimes you folded paper stars, Eleanor's favorite craft. Apparently, her and Kyle would make them all the time many years ago.

The nurses eventually took notice, saying how she's been brighter since you started visiting.

You initially never really understood why it mattered so much to her- this woman who didn't ever know your name, who saw someone else in your place.

But then, one spring afternoon, the real Kyle comes to visit.

You're in Room 214 with Eleanor, per usual, folding the little paper stars she loves so much. A knock is soon heard before the door is gently pushed open, revealing a face that holds some resemblance to Mrs. Garrick.

Eleanor's eyes light up, the same way they do for you, though there's a hint of uncertainty behind them. "Kyle?"