We're Supposed To Be Making Up This

As We Ride The Elevator Gale Finally Says “you're Still Angry.” “and You're Still Not Sorry,” I Reply. "i Will Stand By What I Said. Do You Want Me To Lie About It?” He Asks. “no, I Want You To Rethink It And Come Up With The Right Opinion,” I Tell Him.

Even Though I Don't Ask, Plutarch Gives Me Cheerful Updates On The Phone Like "good News, Katniss! I Think We've Almost Got Him Convinced You're Not A Mutt!" Or "today He Was Allowed To Feed Himself Pudding!

Its Not In My Nature To Go Down Without A Fight Even When Things Seem Insurmountable

He Never Lets Go Of Annie's Hand. Not When They Walk, Not When They Eat. I Doubt He Ever Plans To.

The Pain Over My Heart Returns, And From It I Imagine Tiny Fissures Spreading Out Into My Body. Through My Torso, Down My Arms And Legs, Over My Face, Leaving It Crisscrossed With Cracks. One Good Jolt...and I Could Shatter Into Strange Razor-sharp Shards.