Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it.

But after several hours, I go anyway, walking in silent sock feet, so as not to awaken the ghosts.

Cleaning me up is just a preliminary step to determining my new look. With my acid-damaged hair, sunburned skin, and ugly scars, the prep team has to make me pretty and then damage, burn, and scare me in a more attractive way.

I stand there, feeling broken and small, thousands of eyes trained on me.

Suddenly I am furious, that with my life on the line, they don’t even have the decency to pay attention to me. That I’m being upstaged by a dead pig.

"If I could grow wings, I could fly. Only people can't grow wings," he say's. "Real or not real?" "Real," I say. "But people don't need wings to survive." "Mockingjays do."

It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.