Even in war there should be lines you didn't cross.
Make sure they remember you.
Something small and quiet, like a match being struck, lights up the gloom inside of me.
Slowly, with many lost days, I come back to life.
Plutarch rushes to reassure me. "Oh, no, Katniss. Not your wedding. Finnick and Annie's. All you need to do is show up and pretend to be happy for them." "That's one of the few things I won't have to pretend, Plutarch," I tell him.
Why? Do you find this" - he strikes a ridiculously provocative pose - "distracting?