It's the easiest thing to be trapped and gutted by, isn't it? Hope. It is soulless and almost undeniable, and it wounds irreparably, throbbing even once it has been shattered.


Peeta slid down into the chair, still the edge of childhood to it, but also with a strange attention to how he settled one of his legs. He'll start somewhere easier. He always does, if he can.

"This place is called Milliways."