The Hunger Games: Extended Epilogue

Chapter 14: Concern

I freeze in my steps.
Gale. It is from him. And seemingly, I am filled with a million different emotions.
Confusion of why he wrote me, longing to read it, but anger from what he did, and sadness that he is gone.
The letter is wrinkled, stained, and has a crease from being folded in half. How long ago was this written?
I look up down the hall and see Peeta still washing dishes.
And for a second, I think about running after Hazelle. I can get away, I'll just slip out the door and catch up to her. But then what? What would I ask her?
What is the letter? Why did he write me? No. These are questions I have to answer myself.
She told me that too, and she would only tell me the same thing. So I decide against it.
My mind it still going on and on, making the course of a few seconds feel like hours. So, to silence the on going thoughts that are screaming in my head, I shove the letter back in my pocket. Then slowly walk into the kitchen, like I only said goodbye. And stand next to Peeta to help dry the dishes.
But I can't seem to let this go. Questions still fill my head and silence anything else trying to get my attention. Like Peeta, who has to lightly shake me out of my state of mind and back into reality.
And when I rise out of the consciousness, I respond with a "Yeah?" that comes out too weak.
His face automatically flushes and becomes concerned, he knows I'm upset. And answers back with, "What's wrong? Did something happen?"
This is something that makes me love Peeta, his genuine concern. He truly knows when I'm upset, and is one of the few people in this world who can read me. Which is something I have learned to get used to because I have had so many people been unable to know what I am thinking for so long in the past. But not Peeta, it kills him inside to have any doubt in his mind that I'm not okay. Which has truly allowed me to slowly open up to him more and more over the course of the weeks I have been here.
But right now isn't like the other times. Though not telling him might be wrong, I feel as if the letter sitting in my pocket is sacred to me, and cannot be shared. So I create a small lie that will distract him from the instinct of his concern.
"No," I pause, "just.. I haven't seen her in so long. I am thinking it all over really." I say.
He isn't convinced. "Is it the scar?" He asks again, still trying to find an answer. And this time I go along, hoping it will quite his own thoughts. So I nod.
"It's nothing you did Katniss. It's the doing of the capital, and only the capital." He tries to explain.
I nod again, and we stand together doing the dishes in silence. And I return to the questions that pile in my mind, making me want to read the letter more with every minute passing.
Though, the day drags on and the moment never presents itself for me to go off and read it.
So I wait.