it was the day you dreaded the most, the reaping. and what made it worse? it was a quarter quell, and this year there would be 48 tributes, two girls and two boys from each district. all you could think about was seeing your boy, the rascal known as haymitch abernathy.

though you looked like one, you weren’t necessarily a angel either, but is anybody anymore? and besides, after the two arrests and being watched endlessly by peacekeepers, it’s a big risk. so now you okay the angel act.

you’ve done all your chores, bake some breakfast and feed the animals, bathe the animals. now, it was your favorite time. playing guitar as your geese surround you, while you wait in your boy to visit you after work.

your back was to him as he came, gently giving you a kiss. you smiled and stopped playing, he sat down with a grunt, holding a bottle of alcohol. that’s his job, making it and bottling it, alcohol always trades good on reaping days.

“hattie let me go early today..” he said with a soft smiled, his messy curls in the wind.