Peeta Bakes. I Hunt. Haymitch Drinks Until

Tonight. After The Reaping, Everyone Is Supposed To Celebrate. And A A Lot Of People Do, Out Of Relief That Their Children Have Been Spared For Another Year. But At Least Two Families Will Pull Their Shutters, Lock Their Doors, And Try To Figure Out How They Will Survive The Painful Weeks To Come.

Peeta Looks Me Right In The Eye And Gives My Hand What I Think Is Meant To Be A Reassuring Squeeze. Maybe It's Just A Nervous Spasm.

Just Remember, Stealing's Punishable By Death

I See Now That The Circumstances Of Ones Birth Are Irrelevent. It Is What You Do With The Gift Of Life That Determines Who You Are

She Must Have Really Loved Him To Leave Her Home For The Seam. I Try To Remember That When All I Can See Is The Woman Who Sat By, Blank And Unreachable, While Her Children Turned To Skin And Bones. I Try To Forgive Her For My Father's Sake. But To Be Honest, I'm Not The Forgiving Type.