She sat at the table, lost in thought, but everything around her seemed to slow down when he was near. A light touch, barely noticeable, but lingering enough to leave no doubt. She didn't pull away, feeling his fingers stay there, not in a hurry to withdraw his hand. It was a silent agreement that required no words.
The second one didn't look away either, although it seemed like not a single word was spoken between them. Their silence was in sync, almost intimate, and even the awkward gestures or accidental touches became part of this continuous flow. Their closeness was almost imperceptible, but distinctly tangible, like a shadow that was always there.
(Dear readers, I am translating the fanfic myself, so I apologize in advance for any grammatical mistakes. English is not my native language, nor my second language. I'm doing my best, thank you!)
The true spark of the rebellion was a normal, friendly stylist from the Capitol: that we all know. But how did this spark come to be, and why? Years before the events of the first Hunger Games book, Cinna lives normally in the Capitol. When a girl comes into the picture, things start to change: maybe his president isn't so perfect after all...