I know he was desperate. That makes people do all kinds of crazy things.

Peeta crouches down on the other side of her and strokes her hair. When he begins to speak in a soft voice, it seems almost nonsensical, but the words aren’t for me. “With my paint box at home, I can make every color imaginable. Pink. As pale as a baby’s skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water.

But the words are easy and soothing, promising tomorrow will be more hopeful than this awful piece o time we call today.

I'm going to be the Mockingjay.

It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death.

Star-crossed lovers desperate to get home together. Two hearts beating as one. Romance.

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