Catching Fire (The Hunger Games, #2)

by Suzanne Collins

I think of Haymitch, unmarried, no family, blotting out the world with drink. He could have had his choice of any woman in the district. And he chose solitude.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

As far as I can tell, they never get up before noon unless there’s some sort of national emergency, like my leg hair.

“I thought he wanted it, anyway,” I say. “Not like this,” Haymitch says. “He wanted it to be real.”

After a couple of hours, I reach an old house near the edge of the lake. Maybe “house” is too big a word for it. It’s only one room, about twelve feet square.

is this the bosas house

Johanna Mason is naked again