My Mother Just Wanted Me To Forget

I Poke Around In The Pile, About To Settle On Some Cod Chowder, When Peeta Holds Out A Can To Me. “here.” I Take It, Not Knowing What To Expect. The Label Reads Lamb Stew.

I Think We Put Our Children At An Enormous Disadvantage By Not Educating Them In War, By Not Letting Them Understand About It At An Early Age.

Sometimes When I'm Alone, I Take The Pearl From Where It Lives In My Pocket And Try To Remember The Boy With The Bread, The Strong Arms That Warded Off Nightmares On The Train, The Kisses In The Arena.

I Can Almost Hear Haymitch Groaning As I Team Up With This Wispy Child. But I Want Her. Because She's A Survivor, And I Trust Her, And Why Not Admit It? She Reminds Me Of Prim.

He Tilts His Forehead Down To Rest Against Mine And Pulls Me Closer. His Skin, His Whole Being Radiates Heat From Being So Near The Fire, And I Close My Eyes, Soaking In His Warmth. I Breathe In The Smell Of Snow-dampened Leather And Smoke And Apples, The Smell Of All Those Wintry Days We Shared Before The Games. I Don't Try To Move Away. Why Should I Anyway? His Voice Drops To A Whisper. "i Love You." That's Why.