Just Don't Die For Me, You Won't

Yeah, About That,” Says Peeta, Entwining His Fingers In Mine. “don’t Try Something Like That Again.” “or What?” I Ask. “or . . . Or . . .” He Can’t Think Of Anything Good. “just Give Me A Minute.

I Had To Do That. At Least Once.

We Hand The Meat Over To Greasy Sae In The Kitchen. She Likes District 13 Well Enough, Even Though She Thinks The Cooks Are Somewhat Lacking In Imagination. But A Woman Who Came Up With A Palatable Wild Dog And Rhubarb Stew Is Bound To Feel As If Her Hands Are Tied Here.

Still, I Hate Them. But, Of Course, I Hate Almost Everybody Now. Myself More Than Anyone.

Never Having Been In Love, This Is Going To Be A Real Trick. I Think Of My Parents. The Way My Father Never Failed To Bring Her Gifts From The Woods. The Way My Mother's Face Would Light Up At The Sound Of His Boots At The Door. The Way She Almost Stopped Living When He Died.