My eyes flicker up to Connor, who stares at me with understanding and more compassion. He says, “Tout ira bien, mon ami.” Everything will be fine, my friend. Connor has said that he doesn’t believe in magic, but his words hold a possession all on their own, filling me with serenity, a temporary calmness, that I am grateful to have before my climb. Everything will be fine, my friend. I nod a couple times. Everything will be fine.
