Seven years has gone by since I had last seen, nevertheless even talked, to Gale. Peeta and I have been married for three years, and it has been the happiest three years of my life. Nothing can describe how I'm feeling. I've been elated ever since I told him I loved him, back when we were playing the 'Real or Not Real' game. Well, to this day we still play the game; sometimes, as a joke.
There is one game that I am especially glad is over. The Hunger Games. No one understands or ever will understand the nightmares and the anxiety. The hurt and comfort that those games brought me. My mother passed away from a sickness six months before the wedding, and Prim was killed seven years ago. They year of the uprising. So since then, Peeta has been my only family.
Panem is different now. President Snow's gone. All the districts are connected, so I can easily travel to District 11, to visit the friends of Rue, which have become my friends as well. The Capitol and District 1 and 2 are the farthest away. But, it's not as if I would visit them. They hold appalling memories of the dreadful past, that I never want to revisit again. Here, safe in District 12, I have the comfort of Peeta and of my home. I have absolutely nothing to complain-or worry-about.
Peeta sneaks up behind me, while I'm working at my desk, and kisses me.
"Peeta!" I say, pushing him away.
"What?" he protests, between laughs. "Good morning!" I let him wrap his warm arms around me as we both look at the beautiful orange sunset, out the window, in front of us. I love working at this desk, because the sunlight falls right on my writing work. Over these couple years, I have become particularly fond of writing. It's a way to share my feelings, instead of saying them-which I hate to do. It's similar to why Peeta paints. He paints and I write; to just release all the tension or happiness inside of us. And it's the way we communicate often. But, right now I am working on a special project.
"So, why are you up before the sun?" He pulls a chair from the kitchen table and sits beside me, peering at my writing.
I jokingly push his head away and smile at him.
"Cheese Buns is hungry," I change the subject. Peeta walks to the dog cage and lets our dog, Cheese Buns, Cheesy for short, out and he feeds him. Cheesy is quite a strange and peculiar little dog with big eyes, small ears and perpetual spasms. He jumps up and down, in excitement, at the most arbitrary occurrences and all Peeta and I can do is laugh.
Our eccentric little dog spins in circles and then jumps right into his dog bowl. Eating and lounging in the food, at the same time.
Peeta makes breakfast for me and I continue working, while the sun is pouring into our cozy, sweet home. It makes dancing shadows on the walls and mingles with the plants on the wall in the living room. This is the life I live every day, and it really is a dream. We live in a large apartment with many rooms and a great, big balcony, which Peeta and I revisit some of the old times by talking out there, like we did once at the Capitol.
And another swell morning proceeds.