He’s dozed off again, but I kiss him awake, which seems to startle him. Then he smiles as if he’d be happy to lie there gazing at me forever.

Girl talk. That thing I've always been so bad at.

But the words are easy and soothing, promising tomorrow will be more hopeful than this awful piece o time we call today.

It sends out a very clear message: "Mess with us and we'll do something worse than kill you. We'll kill your children.

We star-crossed lovers of District 12, who suffered so much and enjoyed so little the rewards of our victory, do not seek our fans' favor, grace them with our smiles, or catch their kisses. We are unforgiving. And I love it. Getting to be myself at last.

No more fear of hunger. A new kind of freedom. But what then ... what? What would my life be like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I'm not really sure who I am, what my identity is. The idea scares me some.

They're a little strange, but I'm pretty sure neither of them is going to try to make me uncomfortable by stripping naked.