“Tomorrow,” he promised. “The wind’s going to turn and it’s going to be that breath of fresh air we need.” Tucking her hair behind her ear with one hand, holding her close with the other, he waited for her to look up at him. “The sun’s going to come up. There will be something stupid to laugh about. We’ll still be here. Everything will be all right. I promise you. By the name of every star I know and don’t know, it’s going to be all right.”
The phrases twisted around his tongue, and he only hoped that they were weaving themselves into something like truth.
She laid her hand over his, squeezed his fingers. “Tomorrow,” she promised him.
In awe, he stared at her, wondering how she fit it into one word.