No. Now, Shut Up And Eat Your

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

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.

One Time, My Mother Told Me That I Always Eat Like I'll Never See Food Again. And I Said, "i Won't Unless I Bring It Home." That Shut Her Up.

Then, In My Most Careful Handwriting, Come All The Details It Would Be A Crime To Forget. Lady Licking Prim's Cheek. My Father's Laugh. Peeta's Father With The Cookies. The Colour Of Finnick's Eyes. What Cinna Could Do With A Length Of Silk. Boggs Reprogramming The Holo. Rue Poised On Her Toes, Arms Slightly Extended, Like A Bird About To Take Flight. On And On. We Seal The Pages With Salt Water And Promises To Live Well To Make Their Death Count.

Don't. Don't Let's Pretend When There's No One Around.