It'd Be Better If He Were Easier

The Ones I Loved Fly As Birds In The Open Sky Above Me. Soaring, Weaving, Calling To Me To Join Them. I Want So Badly To Follow Them, But The Seawater Saturates My Wings, Making It Impossible To Lift Them. The Ones I Hated Have Taken To The Water, Horrible Scaled Things That Tear My Salty Flesh With Needle Teeth. Biting Again And Again. Dragging Me Beneath The Surface.

Let The Seventy-forth Hunger Games Begin, Cato, I Think. Let Them Begin For Real.

I Take Peeta's Face In My Hands. "don't Worry. I'll See You At Midnight.

Yeah, About That,” Says Peeta, Entwining His Fingers In Mine. “don’t Try Something Like That Again.” “or What?” I Ask. “or . . . Or . . .” He Can’t Think Of Anything Good. “just Give Me A Minute.

I Know He Was Desperate. That Makes People Do All Kinds Of Crazy Things.