βFor you.β I hold it out on my palm and examine its iridescent surface in the sunlight. Yes, I will keep it. For the few remaining hours of my life I will keep it close. This last gift from Peeta. The only one I can really accept. Perhaps it will give me strength in the final moments.
βThanks, β I say, closing my fist around it. I look coolly into the blue eyes of the person who is now my greatest opponent, the person who would keep me alive at his own expense. And I promise myself I will defeat his plan.
***
I feel around for the parachute and slide my fingers inside until they close around the pearl. I sit back on my bed crosslegged and find myself rubbing the smooth iridescent surface of the pearl back and forth against my lips. For some reason, itβs soothing. A cool kiss from the giver himself.
***
Sometimes when Iβm alone, I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena. To make myself put a name to the thing Iβve lost. But whatβs the use? Itβs gone. Heβs gone.
