[That sounds so much like something Peeta would tell her that she feels a fresh wave of tears sting her eyes. Her dandelion in the spring, that promise that life could be good again. How many times has he told her something similar? Promised it, promised her that she deserved this happiness, deserved a chance at a good life?
She doesn't know how to believe it now, not without Peeta here to remind her.
She swallows hard and wipes at her face, afraid for a moment that if she talks, her voice will betray further weakness. A deep breath. And another. Then, quietly:]
[Voice]
She doesn't know how to believe it now, not without Peeta here to remind her.
She swallows hard and wipes at her face, afraid for a moment that if she talks, her voice will betray further weakness. A deep breath. And another. Then, quietly:]
That's what he'd say.