The Start

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I stand in front of Peeta's Bakery. Once owned by his parents, killed in the firebombs the Capitol brought down shortly after our second games. It's not an unfamiliar sight, though its still hard to accept. The once building of charred black feeble wood, now replaced with cement, bricks, and sheets of metal to help hold minor things in place. And this happens to be one of the nicer looking buildings still standing.

Peeta walks out, his hair sleeked into half, dived left to right. Jacket, folded, hanging over his left arm. Woven reed basket in both hands. He sees me starring.

He calls out, "Katniss are you okay?" I shake my head yes, and smile at him. He sets down the basket and returns my doings with a quick hug.

"How are you?" He only asks to make small talk. Nothing too heavy.  "I haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm doing fine," I said. Not great, but I've had worse days than today. I haven't broken down into sobs and I havent destroyed things yet either.

He takes a breath and looks around."I was kind of worried you weren't gonna show."

"Why?" My voice is unintentionally jagged.

"Well I mean the last time we planned one of these-" he starts.

I step forward," Let's just go." I wrap my jacket tighter around my body and cross my arms, seemingly protectively. More of a strategy to keep me grounded. A simple pinch on my ribs reminds me to stay here, in the present moment.

We walk past my old house, in comfortable silence. Here were my childhood memories. They all rest...but not in peace.

It's bright out, lunchtime, and Peeta and I arranged a picnic. A simple get together.

"The sky is so beautiful out here," Peeta says trying to start a conversation.

"Yeah..." I say. We find a spot near the lake. Peeta unpacks. When he opens the woven lid, steam rises up into the air, carrying the welcoming smell of his pastries and I already know one of them happens to be his cheese bread.

"How have things been for you, back home?" I ask and reach for a napkin.

"Good I actually have fixed that leak-" He says until he realizes, that's not my question.

"But like you know..." My voice trails off. The hidden meaning behind my words obvious. Carefully said sure not to seem like anything to pressuring.

He pauses, balls his hand into a fist and bounces it on his thigh a few times. Peeta's bites down on the inside of his lips. He seems more uncomfortable than mad.

"Katniss, if you wanna know about my flashbacks you can just ask," Peeta said plain out. "But they've been okay. Not a lot."

"Oh." Is all I can think of. The silence gets to us. We have frogs in our throats, it seems. However In complete honesty I don't want to be here. Outside with Peeta, here in the woods, more than anything away from home. The makeshift bed from the couch,calls my name. Hisses at me. Telling me to come back, and I see no reason to resist.

"I know there's something on your mind." He says. Yeah, there is, but I'm sure Peeta didn't set this whole thing up to talk about my problems.

"Its nothing." Said avoiding eye contact, eyes glued to the grass.

"Nothing?" He puts down his sandwich, "Is nothing the reason why you've barely said two words at a time to me? Are you mad at me? Did I do something?"

"Peeta if I was mad at you, do you really think I'd be here right now?" I snap," I clearly don't wanna talk about it! Or anything for that matter."

We don't speak for the majority of our time together.

"I'm glad that your bakery is up and running," I say after a while. Feeling bad about this whole thing. It angers me that we can survive a war and two games, but not lunch together, none the less a conversation.

"It's running, but I wouldn't say up though. I'm trying to build the place again."

"Where's all the money from the games? Can't you use that to fix the bakery, order in new appliances?"

"Yes, but I think its good for me.... The hands-on work is kinda like therapy if you will. Just helps eases stress."

I don't blame him. Busy work. Anything helpful to forget about the past few years would be nice. Impossible. But settling. No people to remember, things said, those done, and for those who are gone... For them to still feel like they are here.

"Do you hunt still? With Gale?" Peeta asks.

"No. I mean- well... I hunt but n-not with it. I haven't spoken to him since I came back." I answered. The pure thought of him made my heart race. My mind sped a million miles a minute.

"Look, Katniss, I know that this didn't really go as planned, and now might not be the right time, but what are we." He asks.

"People." I joke, "Victors... Survivors... Scared. You know I just can't grasp my mind around everything. I-I can't even have a simple day to just be me, because I'll never be me again. All this has happened in about four years. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Paylor and her ruling, but I just still hate the Capitol."

"What do you mean?" He leans in and pays full attention. Ears open, Eyes intent on me.

"I mean that, even after all this the capital people still view us as victors as trophies. They will never see us as people. Did I ever tell  you about what happened a few weeks ago, capitol tourist came directly to my door."

"To thank you?" He asks puzzled.

"They came to ask if I would be in the games again, I guess there are rumors going around between the districts. Games with pure volunteers. Another of them had the nerve to ask if I would like to apologize for killing and destroying family's nationwide."I yelled.

Peeta sat with a blank expression."Katniss I'm sorry."

"Yeah? Well I am too." I say. I take deep breaths in effort to slow my beating heart. He looks conflicted to say something. Like whatever he says will be wrong. He's probably right.

"Look thanks for lunch. I think its time we.." I say, hinting.

"Yeah, um-yeah." He starts to gather his things. I help. And then we walk back.

"But I was serious about my question back there... What are we?" He says.

"Peeta, I'm just not in the best... Position to be anything more right now.I just want to be good for now...we're both recovering... Slowly. "

"Yeah... I guess."

We walked back to the bakery, still conversing. I looked around. Though and still saw a few piles of undisturbed ashes. I kept things cool.

When we got there I helped carry things inside, and I all I swear I saw his father. I could see him smiling at me, dusting if the case that held all the pastries, anticipating my game, usually squirrels. He was covered with flour and skin stained all sorts of colors.

Our last conversation was way back to my first
First games when I was allowed  to say my goodbyes.

But as for one thing, on my way home, I know I felt way better walking out if this then in. I know that we are both going through things, and trying to solve them. I know I'm not alone.
___________
Re-edited 3/21/16
1394 words in this chapter excluding this Lil note. Thank you for reading this far and giving my book a chance. I am currently rewriting this book, because I have written it in the 7th grade, and now as a sophomore, with a deeper understanding and passion for the book, I can make major improvements to it confidently. Just know that not all chapters will Aline for now.










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