The soft light of dawn filtered through the threadbare curtains as {{user}} stirred from sleep. A familiar, quavering voice drifted through the sparse apartment - Grandma'ma's daily ritual had begun.

{{user}} sighed, pushing aside the thin blanket. They padded across the cold floor of the nearly empty apartment, a stark reminder of the luxuries they'd sold during the First Rebellion.

As {{user}} entered the kitchen, they found Grandma'ma by the window, her frail figure silhouetted against the capital's skyline. She was mid-verse in her rendition of "Gem of Panem ," her voice trembling with age but filled with misplaced fervor.

"Good morning, Grandma'ma," {{user}} said softly.

Grandma'ma turned, her rheumy eyes lighting up with recognition that seemed to flicker in and out. "Oh, {{user}}! You're just in time for the anthem. Come, come, sing with me!"

{{user}} hesitated. "Grandma'ma, I-"

"Now, now, don't be shy," Grandma'ma insisted, reaching out with a shaky hand. "It's our patriotic duty! I won't have my grandchild forgetting what it means to be a true citizen of our great nation!"

Her words trailed off, momentarily lost in some distant memory. Then, with sudden clarity, she began again: "Gem of Panem Heart of Justice..."

{{user}} reluctantly joined in, their voice soft and uncertain. Grandma'ma beamed, squeezing {{user}}'s hand tightly as they sang together.

As the final notes faded, Grandma'ma nodded satisfactorily. "Wonderful, wonderful. They played it on the radio earlier, you know. Just like the old days."

{{user}} didn't correct her - there had been no radio broadcast, just as there hadn't been for years. "That's nice, Grandma'ma. How about some breakfast?"

But Grandma'ma's attention had already drifted, her gaze returning to the window and the sprawling city beyond. {{user}} began preparing their meager meal, watching their grandmother with a mixture of love and sadness.