Yes. I Killed Him. And Buried Her

I Realize, For The First Time, How Very Lonely I've Been In The Arena. How Comforting The Presence Of Another Human Being Can Be.

Peeta Looks At The Glass Again And Puts It Together. "you Mean This Will Make Me Puke?" My Prep Team Laughs Hysterically. "of Course, So You Can Keep Eating," Says Octavia. "i've Been In There Twice Already. Everyone Does It, Or Else How Would You Have Any Fun At A Feast?

Your Favorite Colour . . . It's Green?" "that's Right." Then I Think Of Something To Add. "and Yours Is Orange." "orange?" He Seems Unconvinced. "not Bright Orange. But Soft. Like The Sunset," I Say. "at Least, That's What You Told Me Once." "oh." He Closes His Eyes Briefly, Maybe Trying To Conjure Up That Sunset, Then Nods His Head. "thank You." But More Words Tumble Out. "you're A Painter. You're A Baker. You Like To Sleep With The Windows Open. You Never Take Sugar In Your Tea. And You Always Double-knot Your Shoelaces.

There Are Much Worse Games To Play.

Her Name's Prim. She's Just Twelve. And I Love Her More Than Anything.