grey skies are gonna clear up
As Koa’s prayer whispered skyward, the air around the competition stand shifted—soft, golden, kind. From nowhere and everywhere at once, a warm breeze drifted through the square, curling around ankles and cheeks like the comforting brush of a familiar hand. The scent of summer rain and sea salt rode on its back, and laughter that had begun to fray with tension now lilted higher, steadied by something unseen. The spirit he summoned didn’t take shape—not exactly—but those sensitive to such things could feel it moving, gentle and protective, winding through the crowd with a watchful warmth.
put on a happy face
