Exactly How Am I Supposed To Work

I Thought He Wanted It, Anyway," I Say. "not Like This," Haymitch Says. "he Wanted It To Be Real.

She’s Really Gone, Then. The Little Girl With The Back Of Her Shirt Sticking Out Like A Duck Tail, The One Who Needed Help Reaching The Dishes, And Who Begged To See The Frosted Cakes In The Bakery Window. Time And Tragedy Have Forced Her To Grow Too Quickly, At Least For My Taste, Into A Young Woman Who Stitches Bleeding Wounds And Knows Our Mother Can Hear Only So Much.

Fine, Than I Will Not Have To Blame You For Killing My Friends With Your Stupidity. -haymitch

The Heat Of The Bread Burned Into My Skin, But I Clutched It Tighter, Clinging To Life.

I Miss Him So Badly It Hurts.