My Lips Are Just Forming His Name

I Pull The Sleeping Bag Up To His Chin And Kiss His Forehead, Not For The Audience, But For Me. Because I'm So Grateful That He's Here, Not Dead By The Stream As I'd Thought. So Glad I Don't Have To Face Cato Alone.

I Wonder If Effie Will Still Be Wearing That Silly Pink Wig, Or Is She'll Be Sporting Some Other Unnatural Color Especially For The Victor Tour.

Where Did They Get Those Screams, Katniss?

I Drink In His Wholeness, The Soudness Of His Body And Mind. It Runs Through Me Like The Morphling They Give Me In The Hospital, Dulling The Pain Of The Last Weeks.

Peeta Looks Me Right In The Eye And Gives My Hand What I Think Is Meant To Be A Reassuring Squeeze. Maybe It's Just A Nervous Spasm.