Her hair drifted in the light wind as she stood on the edge and gazed out at nothing in particular. "Do you think I'll be the one?" She spoke to him without turning, and her voice was loud and beautiful and solid over the soft background of the evening. He gave her a little smile, a sad smile that she couldn't see, and said what everyone else had said already: "If there's even a chance..." Everyone almost believed it, too. Even him.
He leaned forward, cautiously, and looked down into space. He thought of the ground, so far below that it hid under the clouds. Thought what she must be thinking, about all the ones who went before her. Thought about why he loved her, and how each reason was a qualification for her to stand among them. Thought of love in one hand, hope in the other, and inevitability standing there beside him. "I believe in you," he told her. "I believe in her," he told himself, because he couldn't deny it. One of his hands found hers, and they stood in silence for a long time.
"It's worth it," she said, suddenly and decisively. Of course; she didn't doubt when she could dream. "It's worth all of us, if one of us can find the way. You believe in that, too." He nodded slowly. And she smiled then, genuinely, as she let go of his hand and raised her arms like wings. "One day, one of us will fly."