I merely feel emptyness. A hollow of dead brush where flowers use to bloom.

I swear if you cry, I'll kill you here and now.' Cinna just smiles. 'Had a damp morning?' 'You could wring me out.' I reply

Whatever it takes to break you.

There's no point in comforting words, in telling her she'll be all right. She's no fool. Her hand reaches out and I clutch it like a lifeline. As if it's me who's dying instead of Rue.

deep in the meadow , under the willow , a bed of grass , a soft green pillow

I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Seneca Crane's name on it.

She genuinely likes people. All people, not just a select few she's spent years making up her mind about.