Reserved for the Ocean
Disclaimer: The Hunger Games and it's characters belong to Suzanne Collins
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Annie Cresta falls asleep at night in her and Finnick's bed. Their baby sleeps peacefully in his cradle, the only symbol of peace in Annie's life.
She touches the spot on the bed she leaves for him. She still lives as if he's alive, maybe so she can keep herself alive. She's not really sure herself. The sheets on his side are only up halfway where his body would be - just the way he likes it. Two pillows stacked on top of each other for his head, his trident tucked under his side of the bed where he always kept it. She places her own hand on top of an empty spot on the bed, where Finnick's hand would always rest.
Annie Cresta dreams of curling waves slapping white sanded shores. She dreams of a clear blue-green sea, of Finnick's own seafoam green eyes. She dreams of their footprints in the sand, marking the earth temporarily, only to be erased when the wind's whispers become shouts. She dreams of the way her favorite white dress would kiss the surface of the water when she waded in it on her first date with Finnick.
The war is technically over, but she knows that once a war is started, it never really ends.
Under dawn's smiling light, Annie sets up breakfast. She feeds her son, sets her place at the table, and put some bacon on Finnick's plate. He sits in the chair by the window, soaking up the sun.
Annie doesn't cry anymore. Tears are a waste of salt water, she always said. It's reserved for the ocean.