The boy's grandmother always sees happiness in the palm of her grandson's hand.
He grows up through a series of successes.
The grandmother grows old, becomes seriously ill. The boy comes to see her for the last time.
"Will you read my palm one last time?" he asks her, his voice restrained so as not to tremble.
"I will," the grandmother replies, "But it won't be the last time. It can never be the last time."