I'll Tell Them That On

Maybe I'll Be Like That Man In "the Hanging Tree'. Still Waiting For An Answer.

Maybe I'd Think That, Too, Caesar," Says Petta Bitterly, "if It Weren't For The Baby." There. He's Done It Again.

How Much Better My Life Has Been For Knowing Him. For Loving Him, Even If It's Only In The Limited Way That I Can Manage. But I Never Get The Chance.

You Can’t Miss Your Schedule. Every Morning, You’re Supposed To Stick Your Right Arm In This Contraption In The Wall. It Tattoos The Smooth Inside Of Your Forearm With Your Schedule For The Day In A Sickly Purple Ink. 7:00—breakfast. 7:30—kitchen Duties. 8:30—education Center, Room 17. And So On. The Ink Is Indelible Until 22:00—bathing

Peeta, How Come I Never Know When You're Having A Nightmare?” I Say. “i Don't Know. I Don't Think I Cry Out Or Thrash Around Or Anything. I Just Come To, Paralyzed With Terror,” He Says. “you Should Wake Me,” I Say, Thinking About How I Can Interrupt His Sleep Two Or Three Times On A Bad Night. About How Long It Can Take To Calm Me Down. “it's Not Necessary. My Nightmares Are Usually About Losing You,” He Says. “i'm Okay Once I Realize You're Here.