I'm so tired, Katniss.
We fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice.
We could do it, you know.
I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips.
If I feel ragged, my prep team seems in worse condition, knocking back coffee and sharing brightly colored little pills. As far as I can tell, they never get up before noon unless there's some sort of national emergency, like my leg hair.
Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else's arms have made me feel this safe.