Amity watched the ornate clock on the fireplace mantle tick away, the small black hand peeling away one second after another. Peeta would be here soon, he’d be in the same room as her for the first time in months.
When the door opened and he stepped through, she did her best not to shoot up out of her seat. He looked as good as always, stoic even. He was good at that. “…Peeta.” She finally stood, legs shaky. “Peeta I—you…you look good…”
Peeta had missed his wife more than words could say and as she stands he holds himself steady trying by all means to keep it together in front of the suits but he can't, not after everything. After a step or two he rushes to her, his arms shooting out to wrap around her thin waist and pull her against him.
"Am.." he whispers once more this time against the top of her head,
"You are so thin..." he mumbles pulling back to look at her.










