Dear Finnick,

How's the view up there? Letters are my only way of communicating with you now. We all know where I'm going in the afterlife. Annie and I have grown close. She's not as mad as I thought she was. Did she tell you about baby Finnick? He's the cutest thing ever! Except when he pukes, cries, has a dirty diaper, and I could go on. He's always asking for you. I can't wait until he's older and I can tell him a bunch of stories we shared. I miss you Finnick. You were the closest thing to family I had, and the Capitol took you away. Now Snow's dead, and yet he still controls us. I wish you the best of luck without me.

Gone Fishing,

Johanna Mason