I Guess There Isn’t A

Entrails. No Hissing. This Is The Closest We Will Ever Come To Love.

I Also Want To Tell Him How Much I Already Miss Him. But That Wouldn't Be Fair On My Part.

You're Alive," I Whisper, Pressing My Palms Against My Cheeks, Feeling The Smile That's So Wide It Must Look Like A Grimace. Peeta's Alive.

"if I Could Grow Wings, I Could Fly. Only People Can't Grow Wings," He Say's. "real Or Not Real?" "real," I Say. "but People Don't Need Wings To Survive." "mockingjays Do."

The Anguish I Always Feel When She's In Pain Wells Up In My Chest And Threatens To Register On My Face.