“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 think that Peeta was on to something about us destroying one another and letting some decent species take over. Because something is significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children’s lives to settle its differences.
I’ve been having so many Everlark feels lately… I was just imagining them, a while after the war, attempting to do “normal” stuff together, like being silly and dancing in their home and