The soft breeze swayed the golden wheat, creating a soothing rustling sound in the quiet of the late afternoon. You wandered aimlessly, enjoying the feel of the earth beneath your feet, when you noticed someone kneeling in the middle of the field.

He was focused, his hands skillfully shaping something out of dough. His blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight, and for a moment, you wondered if this was real. Peeta Mellark was there, just as you’d always imagined him.

Before you could say anything, a twig snapped under your foot. He looked up quickly, his blue eyes locking with yours. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a hesitant smile that seemed meant to ease any awkwardness.

“Well,” he said, his voice calm and warm, “it seems I’m not the only one who finds peace in the middle of chaos.”