It Crosses My Mind That

When I Wake, I Have A Brief, Delicious Feeling Of Happiness That Is Somehow Connected With Peeta. Happiness, Of Course, Is A Complete Absurdity At This Point, Since At The Rate Things Are Going, I'll Be Dead In A Day. And That's The Best-case Scenario, If I'm Able To Eliminate The Rest Of The Field, Including Myself, And Get Peeta Crowned As The Winner Of The Quarter Quell. Still, The Sensation's So Unexpected And Sweet I Cling To It, If Only For A Few Moments. Before The Gritty Sand, The Hot Sun, And My Itching Skin Demand A Return To Reality.

I Take A Few Breaths To Calm Myself, Step Back, And Lift Buttercup By The Scruff Of The Neck. "i Should've Drowned You When I Had The Chance." His Ears Flatten And He Raises A Paw. I Hiss Before He Gets A Chance, Which Seems To Annoy Him A Little, Since He Considers Hissing His Own Personal Sound Of Contempt.

Either You Came In Here A Swimmer Or You'd Better Be A Really Fast Learner

In Stark Contrast To Two Nights Ago, When I Felt Peeta Was A Million Miles Away, I'm Struck By His Immediacy Now. As We Settle In, He Pulls My Head Down To Use His Arm As A Pillow; The Other Rests Protectively Over Me Even When He Goes To Sleep. No One Has Held Me Like This In Such A Long Time. Since My Father Died And I Stopped Trusting My Mother, No One Else's Arms Have Made Me Feel This Safe.

In Our World, I Rank Music Somewhere Between Hair Ribbons And Rainbows In Terms Of Usefulness.