But once I saw Fulvia Cardew crumple up a sheet of paper with just a couple of words written on it and you would’ve thought she’d murdered someone from the looks she got.

I’m in a shallow hole, not filled with the humming orange bubbles of my hallucination but with old, dead leaves.

Oh, he's on top of it. It was volunteer only, but he pretended not to notice me waving my hand in the air," says Haymitch. "See? He's already demonstrated good judgment.

People deal with me, but they are genuinely fond of Prim. Maybe there will be enough fondness to keep her alive.

I keep hoping that as time passes by, we’ll regain the ease between us, but part of me knows it’s futile. There’s no going back.

I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips.

On and on we seal the pages with salt water and promises to live well to make their deaths count.