How about you, Mockingjay? You feel totally safe?” “Oh, yeah. Right up until I got shot,” I say.

It’s not wondering what I breathe in, but who, that threatens to choke me.

Slowly, with many lost days, I come back to life.

Peeta rinses the pearl off in the water and hands it to me. “For you.” I hold it out on my palm and examine its iridescent surface in the sunlight. Yes, I will keep it. For the few remaining hours of my life I will keep it close. This last gift from Peeta. The only one I can really accept. Perhaps it will give me strength in the final moments.

The realization that I’d have nothing to take home had finally sunk in. My knees buckled and I slid down the tree trunk to its roots. It was too much. I was too sick and weak and tired, oh, so tired. Let them call the Peacekeepers and take us to the community home, I thought. Or better yet, let me die right here in the rain.

I'm on a frosting sailboat, tossed around by blue-green waves, the deck shifting beneath my feet.

As long as you can find yourself, you’ll never starve.