For me, it's better to wake up with a paintbrush than a knife in my hand. -Peeta

At the moment, the choice would be simple. I can survive just fine without either of them.

If I'm going to cry, now is the time. By morning, I'll be able to wash all the damage done by the tears from my face. But no tears come. I'm too tired or too numb to cry. The only thing I feel is a desire to be somewhere else. So I let the train rock me into oblivion.

Peeta looks at the glass again and puts it together. "You mean this will make me puke?" My prep team laughs hysterically. "Of course, so you can keep eating," says Octavia. "I've been in there twice already. Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at a feast?

For a second, I'm afraid he's dying. I have to remind myself that I don't care.

She's really gone, then. The little girl with the back of her shirt sticking out like a duck tail.

All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parent's can't give. More food.