He sits in a deserted, dark apartment in the post-war Capital. He is now part of what the new government calls secret service and while he isn't sure he likes his job, it gives him a reason to stay in the Capital. Unseen, unnoticed, just the way he wants it to be. The rebellion had given him the hope for a better life, something he had never dared to think about before. A life without seeing children being slain every year, the possibility of cutting back on his drinking, maybe even forgetting some events that appeared in his dreams every night. He had even hoped for a future with Effie. With his beautiful, willful, pink-haired girl from the Capitol. In District 13 they had grown close, had lain all their feelings bare before themselves, something they hadn't had the courage to do before.
But then everything had gone to hell. They were already moved back to 12 when they had a huge fight – it had started with some meaningless bickering, but at some point all reason was lost and their argument had totally gotten out of control. He had gone from drunk to sober and to drunk again, while Effie had sobbed and cried and yelled until all her make-up was washed away by her tears and her voice had faded to a raspy whisper. Neither of them knew how they had gotten to the point where she had packed a small suitcase and stalked over a drunk – almost passed out – Haymitch to the train station.
It's been 4 years since that day. He hasn't talked to her since then. Never told her he sobered up (one of the main reasons of their constant quarrels), never called, never wrote. But he sends her flowers on her birthday (no card, no name, no address). When the lights go on in the apartment across the street he shifts in his seat at the window, rubbing his hands to warm himself up. Half of the room he is sitting in was bombed away in the war, crumbling to the ground like so many buildings in the Capitol. He directs his binoculars towards the illuminated room across the street. In a white, clean kitchen a vase sits on top of the counter, filled with an arrangement of soft pink lilies. The strawberry blonde woman that enters the kitchen stops at the sight of the lush bouquet. "Happy Birthday" Haymitch whispers. He sees a smile creep onto her lips, before she hides her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking from what can only be sobs.