Finnick-and-Annie

From the veranda of the Justice Building, I take one last look over the heads of the crowd at my little village in District Four. It’s something I do every year just after ascending the stairs to the platform - a last, fortifying ritual before we’re whisked away to the Capitol for another year of horror. If I can remind myself of the relative calm of life here in the other 49 weeks of the year, it helps me get to my seat and await the reaping. Otherwise, I’m not sure I would be able to move anymore. I sit down and look at the cuffs on my shirt, fiddling with the buttons just to give myself a distraction. I have only four ou