Whatever The Opposite Of Fine Is, That's

I Don't Know What It Is With Finnick And Bread, But He Seems Obsessed With Handling It.

And Then, If You Make It To Bedtime, You Feel The Joy Of Cheating Death Out Of One More Day," She Said. "do You See?

I'm Unaware That My Feet Are Moving To The Table Until I'm Inches From The Holograph. My Hand Reaches In And Cups A Rapidly Blinking Green Light. Someone Joins Me, His Body Tense. Finnick, Of Course. Because Only A Victor Would See What I See So Immediately. The Arena. Laced With Pods Controlled By Gamemakers. Finnick's Fingers Caress A Steady Red Glow Over A Doorway. "ladies And Gentlemen..." His Voice Is Quiet, But Mine Rings Through The Room. "let The Seventy-sixth Hunger Games Begin!

I Pull The Sleeping Bag Up To His Chin And Kiss His Forehead, Not For The Audience, But For Me. Because I'm So Grateful That He's Here, Not Dead By The Stream As I'd Thought. So Glad I Don't Have To Face Cato Alone.

Instead Of Satisfying Me, The Kisses Have The Opposite Effect, Of Make My Need Greater. I Thought I Was Something Of An Expert On Hunger, But This Is An Entirely New Kind.