I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips.
Peeta bakes. I hunt. Haymitch drinks until the liquor runs out.
They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.
Now he's [Cinna] arranging things around my living room: Clothing, fabrics, and sketchbooks with designs he's drawn. I pick one up and examine one of the dresses I supposedly created. You know, I think I show a lot of promise," I say. Get dressed, you worthless thing.
Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.
I'm so tired, Katniss.