From the desk of Coriolanus Snow.

There have been several conceptions and rumors behind the significance of the white roses I tend to so dearly and until recently I've thought it unimportant to share such information with my citizens. However, in light of recent events I've decided to explain to Panem why I hold them so dear to me.

When I was a young man I was spending a lot of time preparing my campaign to run for president. This was pretty much all I had time for providing no time to mingle with other people outside of my campaign team. One woman, my head of public affairs, had always stood out among her colleagues. Her name was Elaine and she was the most practically ravishing woman I had ever set eyes on. Of course Elaine knew I had noticed her and therefore automatically started playing hard to get, a minor setback but I love a challenge. Day after day I continued to speak more to her, trying to find out how I could get her to like me and finally I just perked up the courage to invite her to dinner.

After that first date things immediately took off; we started to see each other more often, we sneaked around at the office and soon I found myself falling madly in love with her. However, this was brought to a standstill the month of my victory in the election. While it was fine for us to be together while she was on my campaign team the cabinet frowned deeply upon seeing anyone that worked for us. A decision had to be made, either she would have to quit her job or I would have to resign. It was a tough call but inevitably, Elaine dropped her chair in my team and we were free to do what we wanted.

It wasn't long after the completion of my first year as president that I found myself in a rose garden with my beloved Elaine as we said or vows and the sacred, "I do's. We couldn't be happier. She promptly moved in with me and quickly began touching the house up. Within the first month she had hand planted an entire white rose garden on our balcony terrace as a symbol of our love being pure and she tended to it very tenderly.

When our first child was born, he was named after her father, "Maxwell" and was hardened in the rose garden and my wife planted a red rose bush for him, to symbolize power. A few years later, our daughter, "Abetha" was born and also hardened in the garden and my wife planted a yellow rose bush for her to symbolize happiness. And so there it was our rose garden- a series of white roses sprinkled with a few shades of colour. As a family we were pure, powerful but important as ever: happy.

Time passed and every day of the year Elaine was out in the garden (if she wasn't out choking my bank account in the Capitol Galleria) having breakfast and watching the sunset every evening and with the children having grown up and left she had all the time in the world. Since the roses made her happy, that is where she stayed. She was also very meticulous with the care of her flowers, allowing no one else to touch them. Although she was still sharp as a knife, it was no secret that Elaine was growing weary.

Eventually, Elaine was diagnosed with tuberculosis and even though we could have cured her within days my beloved refused treatment. "I will not poison my body with that mutated medicine." she said. The Capitol had a cure for everything and the treatments were safe, the ethics behind the creation of the medicines were always rendered as sketchy. Out of choking and undying love, I did as she asked and allowed her to refuse treatment. I allowed to let the light of my life be blown out by my own will.

The disease was short lived, only granting her three days with me after the initial diagnosis but I am thankful her fate was concluded quickly. I was there when it happened - I even cancelled a press conference about the upcoming Quarter Quell, and nothing in my life could have prepared me for such an event. First she was talking to me, saying how she didn't want to be buried ...I told her she would have awhile before it was necessary and she asked me to take her hand. She looked at me and I stared into her glowing blue eyes, moist with tears and asked her why she was crying. She shook her head and insisted she wasn't but I knew better. I took her hand in mine and pulled her face in the direction of mine and stopped.
"I want to ask you something." I tell her, "Do you want to know how much I love you?" She stared at me and nodded slowly. I hold up my left hand and position my fingers in a pinch to signal an amount. "I love you this much." I say. She looked at me with an expression of confusion and anguish. I hold my finger to her lips and tell her to let me finish, "I say I love you this much because my love for you grows every second I'm with you and it's growing so fast that this is the current rate at how much I love you more with every second passing." She looked at me with her signature smile and within the next five minutes she was gone.

The wake wasn't public and she didn't have much family but those that knew Elaine the best were allowed to come, all of whom adorning a white rose in their attire. We had her cremated and the urn which held her was welded inside of a statue bust that was erected in her honor. My children think the bust looks phenomenally like her but only I see the details no stone could capture.

Shortly after her passing I was finding myself in the garden more and more as I took up the chores she found comfort in. As an older man with nothing more to do but sit at my desk I made it my priority to spend as much time caring for and loving Elaine's roses as I spent loving her.

So you see dear reader, there is a reason I wear a single white rose on my lapel. It is to ensure that my wife will always be close to my heart.

Until next time.