If You Won't Talk About Yourself, At

It's Funny, Because Even Though They're Rattling On About The Games, It's All About Where They Were Or What They Were Doing Or How They Felt When A Specific Event Occurred. . . . Everything Is About Them, Not The Dying Boys And Girls In The Arena

I Knew You'd Kiss Me." "how?" I Say. Because I Didn't Know Myself. "because I Am In Pain," He Say's. "that's The Only Way I Get Your Attention.

A Faint Light Burned In The Pit Revealing A Furry Creature Hunched Over A Stone Slab, Fiddling With Something. At First Gregor Raised A Warning Hand. He Thought It Was A Rat. Then The Creature Lifted His Head And Gregor Recognized What Was Left Of His Dad.

Buttercup, Miserable Even With Prim’s Constant Attention, Huddles In The Cube And Exhales Cat Breath In My Face.

Let Me Go!” I Snarl At Him, Trying To Wrest My Arm From His Grasp. “i Can’t,” He Says.