for some reason Gale and Peeta do not coexist well in my thoughts.

In our world, I rank music somewhere between hair ribbons and rainbows in terms of usefulness.

You here to finish me off, Sweetheart?

I never see these things coming. They happen too fast. One second you're proposing an escape plan and the next...

My nightmares are usually about losing you. I'm okay once I realize you're here.

I send a silent thank-you to Dalton for suggesting I wash off the makeup. How ridiculous, how perverse I would feel presenting that painted Capitol mask to these people. The damage, the fatigue, the imperfections. That's how they recognize me, why I belong to them.

"Katniss?" He drops my hand and I take a step, as if to catch my balance. "It was all for the Games," Peeta says. "How you acted." "Not all of it," I say, tightly holding onto my flowers. "Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?" he says. "I don't know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get," I say. He waits, for further explanation, but none's forthcoming. "Well, let me know when you work it out," he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable.