Stupid People Are Dangerous.

Four People Wheel Out A Huge Wedding Cake From A Side Room. Most Of The Guests Back Up, Making Way For This Rarity, This Dazzling Creation With Blue-green, White-tipped Icing Waves Swimming With Fish And Sailboats, Seals And Sea Flowers. But I Push My Way Through The Crowd To Confirm What I Knew At First Sight. As Surely As The Embroidery Stitches In Annie's Gown Were Done By Cinna's Hand, The Frosted Flowers On The Cake Were Done By Peeta's.

You're Alive," I Whisper, Pressing My Palms Against My Cheeks, Feeling The Smile That's So Wide It Must Look Like A Grimace. Peeta's Alive.

Peeta: You Be Nice To Her, Finnick. Or I Might Try And Take Her Away From You. Finnick: Oh, Peeta. Don't Make Me Sorry I Restarted Your Heart.

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.

He Could Have Had His Choice Of Any Woman In The District. And He Chose Solitude. Not Solitude – That Sounds Too Peaceful. More Like Solitary Confinement.