“Greta is great, but he's a little...extremely...moody. Take my birthday last year. At the stroke of midnight, he appeared at my door."I wrote this poem for you," he said, shoving a piece of crumpled paper into my hands.'The world must burn.Lava exploding into faces.Their skeletons are screaming now.No survivors. - From Greta'"Oh...uh...wow..." I began."Don't bother thanking me," he said. "I just wanted to comfort you for being one year closer to the grave. Of course, I failed miserably, because comfort doesn't exist in this universe.”

“Drop something?" he asked, trying to suppress a smile but failing miserably at the act.I nodded and smiled back at him sheepishly, unable to find my voice to respond in any other way."Interested in locks, I see," he commented.I nodded again."Well, here you go," he said, and he handed the book to me.I nodded. Oh crap, why did I just nod? Take the book! I screamed inside my head. Take it! I took it slowly. He kept looking at me, smiling.”

“I call him my friend, but in the last year it's seemed too casual a word for what Gale is to me. A pang of longing shoots through my chest. If only he was with me now! But of course, I don't want that. I don't want him in the arena where he'd be dead in a few days. I just... I just miss him. And I hate being so alone. Does he miss me? He must.”

“he wasn't who I thought he'd be. Mum stroked my hair and said, "Sometimes they aren't. Sometimes they make you vomit."This did not comfort me.”

“Go to sleep," he says softly. His hand brushes the lose strands of my hair off my forehead. Unlike the staged kisses and caresses so far, this gesture seems natural and comforting. I don't want him to stop and he doesn't. He's still stroking my hair when I fall asleep.”

“I nudged my head into his shoulder. "Thanks for offering to come over.""you realize that trying to keep your distance from me will not lessen my affection for you," he said."i guess?" i said."all efforts to save me from you will fail," he said.”