Ƭнє Ƭαѕтє σf Sтαωвєяяιєѕ

Intro.

Strawberries.
Such a weird word that brings so much happiness to me at just the thought.

You wouldn’t think that a fruit could bring one so much happiness, but I guess it isn’t really the fruit that gives me happiness. It’s He who brings me the fruit, every Tuesday and Thursday of every week. It’s these days that I wait for, an excuse to see Him is what it really is. I always ask Him to share them with me, because I have no one else to eat the sweet berries with. They’re almost as good as the sight of Him with the red juices staining His lips, as He sits beside me on the roof of my big old white mansion.

We talk about anything, the Capitol, my mother, His family, my singing, His job, but never the Games. I know if say anything about them, He’ll leave. He doesn’t like to think that She is in the very thing that made my mother insane, that He might not ever see Her again. He has no idea that all the time He has been loving Her, I‘ve been loving Him. I have grown used to the thought of it, I know now that we will never be. Someday we’ll all grow old, and I’ll live in a small house to myself while He and She watch over their grandchildren and tell them of their days in the forest. I will be invited over for dinner, but politely refuse. It wouldn’t hurt me anymore, but I wouldn’t want to see how they look lovingly into each other’s eyes.

I know He does not think of me this way, the way I wish he would. But that doesn’t mean I will stop hoping, that someday… Someday maybe we’ll be more than this, sitting on my roof, eating strawberries.