We could do it, you know.

You're alive," I whisper, pressing my palms against my cheeks, feeling the smile that's so wide it must look like a grimace. Peeta's alive.

Some walks you have to take alone.

I poke around in the pile, about to settle on some cod chowder, when Peeta holds out a can to me. “Here.” I take it, not knowing what to expect. The label reads LAMB STEW.

Not only does he hate me, and want to kill me, he no longer believes I'm human. It was less painful being strangled.

Hey, Effie, watch this!" says Peeta. He tosses his fork over his shoulder and literally licks his plate clean whit his tongue making loud, satisfied sounds. Then he blows a kiss out to her in general and calls, "We miss you, Effie!

Maybe . . . because for the first time . . . there was a chance I could keep him,” I say. “So now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?” “Put you somewhere you can't get hurt.” And when he kisses me, people in the room actually sigh.