“One more time? For the audience?" he says. His voice isn't angry. It's hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me.I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.”

“I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.”

“I had rescued the moment by using my camera and in that way had found how to stop time and hold it. No one could take that image away from me because I owned it.”

“He closes his hand around mine and I hold on. I like his hand. It's big and holds easy but sure. It's the kind of hold that says, I got you if you want me, but I'll let you go if you feel like running for a while.”

“Katniss?" He drops my hand and I take a step, as if to catch my balance."It was all for the Games," Peeta says. "How you acted.""Not all of it," I say, tightly holding onto my flowers."Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?" he says."I don't know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get," I say. He waits, for further explanation, but none's forthcoming."Well, let me know when you work it out," he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable.”

“I throw myself into him, letting him fill the empty hollow places being away from him. I'm already wrapped around him, but I push closer. He tightens his hold on me. Honestly, if I could fit myself into his skin and rest in-between his bones, right now, I would.”