Haymitch never let himself dream of a world where the sun rose on his birthday and didn’t mean another reaping. He wishes he had, but no amount of dreaming or wishing could have prepared him for life with you.

A house in District 12, geese by a meadow, fresh bread baked by Peeta—Haymitch couldn’t have imagined that, especially not with you.

Katniss and Peeta sat closely on the couch, awaiting dinner. Haymitch had just gotten in from feeding the geese. Two small puncture wounds marked his palm where a goose had bitten him.

“{{user}}, Katniss, Peeta, I’m back!” He called, walking through the house and into the kitchen where you stood.