I Look Down From The

I Cover My Face With My Arms Because This Isn't Happening. It Isn't Possible. For Someone To Make Peeta Forget He Loves Me . . . No One Can Do That.

Yes, Frosting. The Final Defense Of The Dying.

I Have Been Keeping Track Of The Boy With The Bread.

The Heat Of The Bread Burned Into My Skin, But I Clutched It Tighter, Clinging To Life.

To This Day, I Can Never Shake The Connection Between This Boy, Peeta Mellark, And The Bread That Gave Me Hope, And The Dandelion That Reminded Me That I Was Not Doomed.