Leah Rockwell, 29 years old

Day before the reapings for the 29th Hunger Games

I hear the scrape of the key in the lock, and I sigh in frustration. Finally! Took him long enough to come home! I've been waiting for hours. For some reason, Hermes has a nasty habit of being late. It's not all the time, but it's enough to drive me mental.

As the door swings open, I keep my head down and rearrange the magnolias. They're freshly cut, straight from the finest botanist in the district. Their sweet scent fills the room. I'd ordered several massive bouquets, so I can put one in each main room in the house: kitchen, living room, bedroom, bathroom. They're truly gorgeous flowers; befitting a home and people like us.

Hermes comes up and hugs me from behind, but I swat him away when he tries to kiss my neck. He absolutely stinks of sweat and that nasty air freshener the Academy uses, which smells like a pine forest. Yuck.

"Hello honey, how was your day?" he asks.

"Just fine."

He looks around me and peers at the magnolias. I catch him frowning for a split second. I frown in response to that. "What is it now, Hermes?" I snap. "What's bothering you this time?"

His eyes widen pitifully in response. Why's he looking at me like that? He's the one who's in a mood, not me.

"It's nothing…" he says quietly, "it's just that… I'm just a little sick of magnolias. Can we please try getting other kinds of flowers?"

There isn't even enough time to blink before I slap him squarely across the face. He doesn't fall down like he used to, but he stumbles backwards a little. He presses a hand to his cheek and looks at me with watery eyes. He looks like a naughty child who just got punished. It's pathetic.

He opens his mouth, but I start talking before he can. "Don't even think about asking me what that was for," I say sharply, "you know full well what that was for." I fold my arms and glare at him. He cowers like an abused dog, and I can tell that he doesn't really understand. Of course he doesn't. He's about as dumb as a dog, too.

"I've told you this before, Hermes. I'll only allow magnolias in this house. They're perfectly good flowers. Why you insist on wanting to get others is beyond me, honestly. I work hard to make this house look even halfway presentable, and you want to ruin it with some ugly flowers?"

Hermes blinks away a couple of tears. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, like he wants to say something. Alright then, I'll hear him out, I guess. It better be an apology.

"Something you want to say to me, Hermes?"

He breathes deeply, like he's trying to prepare himself for something. For goodness sake, it can't be that mentally taxing to apologize to someone, is it?

Finally, he speaks. There's a nervous wobble to his voice, which is very soft. It's an obvious attempt to get me to 'calm down', which I do not appreciate. I'm not angry; I hit him, yes, but I didn't yell at him or anything. He's making up problems where there are none.

But it's his actual words that set me off.

"It's just that… well… I live here too, and I want to choose the flowers…"

"Well guess what, Hermes?" I bark at him. "You're not the only one who lives in this house! You're being incredibly selfish, thinking you can make all the decisions around here. What about me, huh? Enough of what you want; what about what I want? I have just as much right to decide things around here, you know. And to be honest, you have really terrible taste in interior design. Honestly, I have no idea how you'd survive if you didn't have me."

Hermes nods along obediently to all my words. I'm glad he's listening, but he still hasn't done what I want him to. So I glare harder and raise my eyebrow.

"Is there anything else you'd like to say to me, Hermes?"

Hermes glances down at the floor. I clear my throat pointedly and he immediately makes eye contact with me. His expression is one of despondency. Rude, ungrateful bastard.

There's silence for another few moments. I clear my throat again, more aggressively this time, to make him hurry up. Seriously, he acts like owning up to his mistakes is the worst thing in the world, or something.

Finally, Hermes speaks.

"I'm sorry, Leah."

I tap my foot impatiently. "For what?"

"For insulting your choices and being ungrateful."

I grumble. "Took you long enough to realise what you did wrong, plus, if I'm being honest, I've heard more sincere apologies from that bitch Medea. But, since I'm in a good mood today, I'll accept it. You may go."

Hermes wastes no time in leaving the room. Once I'm alone, I sigh.

Who would have ever thought that being a girlfriend was this strenuous?