A Spark Could Be Enough

"i Don't Know How To Say It Exactly. Only... I Want To Die As Myself. Does That Make Any Sense?" He Asks. I Shake My Head. How Could He Die As Anyone But Himself. "i Don't Want Them To Change Me In There. Turn Me Into Some Kind Of Monster That I'm Not."

The Arenas Are Historic Sites, Preserved After The Games. Popular Destinations For Capitol Residents To Visit, To Vacation. Go For A Month, Rewatch The Games, Tour The Catacombs, Visit The Sites Where The Deaths Took Place. You Can Even Take Part In Reenactments. They Say The Food Is Excellent

The More You Can Distract Yourself, The Better.

Want A Sugar Cube?" He Asks In His Old Seductive Voice. That's How We Met, With Finnick Offering Me Sugar. Surrounded By Horses And Chariots, Costumed And Painted For The Crowds, Before We Were Allies. Before I Had Any Idea What Made Him Tick. The Memory Actually Coaxes A Smile Out Of Me. "here, It Improves The Taste," He Says In His Real Voice, Plunking Three Cubes Into My Cup.

Positioned On My Dresser, That White-as-snow Rose Is A Personal Message To Me. It Speaks Of Unfinished Business. It Whispers, I Can Find You. I Can Reach You. Perhaps I Am Watching You Now.