You have a... remarkable memory."
"I remember everything about you. You're the one who wasn't paying attention.

No one really needs me,” he says, and there's no self-pity in his voice...“I do,” I say. “I need you.” He looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that's no good, no good at all, because he'll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I'll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss.

At a few minutes before four, Peeta turns to me again. "Your favorite colour . . . it's green?"
"That's right." Then I think of something to add. "And yours is orange."
"Orange?" He seems unconvinced.
"Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once."
"Oh." He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. "Thank you."
But more words tumble out. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces."
Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.

I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.

Lady licking Prim's cheek. My father's laugh. Peeta's father with the cookies. The color of Finnick's eyes. What Cinna could do with a length of silk. Boggs reprogramming the Holo. Rue poised on her toes, arms slightly extended,like a bird about to take flight.

Vorrei poter fermare il tempo e vivere così per sempre"
Di solito questi riferimenti al suo imperituro amore nei miei confronti mi fanno sentire in colpa e a disagio. Ma mi sento così tranquilla e rilassata e al di là di qualsiasi preoccupazione per un futuro che comunque non avrò che mi lascio sfuggire due semplici parole: "Va bene"
Sento il sorriso nella sua voce. "Allora sei d'accordo?"
"Sono d'accordo" dico io.