Голодные игры

           Hegivesmeanod,hisfaceexpressionless.

           Iwanttotellhimthathe’snotbeingfair.Thatwewerestrangers.ThatIdidwhatittooktostayalive,tokeepusbothaliveinthearena.ThatIcan’texplainhowthingsarewithGalebecauseIdon’tknowmyself.Thatit’snogoodlovingmebecauseI’mnevergoingtogetmarriedanywayandhe’djustenduphatingmelaterinsteadofsooner.ThatifIdohavefeelingsforhim,itdoesn’tmatterbecauseI’llneverbeabletoaffordthekindoflovethatleadstoafamily,tochildren.Andhowcanhe?Howcanheafterwhatwe’vejustbeenthrough?

           IalsowanttotellhimhowmuchIalreadymisshim.Butthatwouldn’tbefaironmypart.

           Sowejuststandtheresilently,watchingourgrimylittlestationriseuparoundus.Throughthewindow,Icanseetheplatform’sthickwithcameras.Everyonewillbeeagerlywatchingourhomecoming.

           Outofthecornerofmyeye,IseePeetaextendhishand.Ilookathim,unsure."Onemoretime?Fortheaudience?"hesays.Hisvoiceisn’tangry.It’shollow,whichisworse.Alreadytheboywiththebreadisslippingawayfromme.

           Itakehishand,holdingontightly,preparingforthecameras,anddreadingthemomentwhenIwillfinallyhavetoletgo.