Haymitch immediately dubs Effie a fish out of water. Watching her try to blend in in District 12 is nothing short of comical. I laugh when she scrunches her nose at Sae's wild dog stew. She spends her mornings with Peeta while Haymitch spends his mornings with me. Dinner is usually with all of us. About a month in, Effie shows up to dinner without a wig. I can't help but stare when she comes in the door. Peeta tells her she looks beautiful, and Haymitch smiles all night. We don't see anymore wigs after that.

Peeta and I don't spend time alone. He doesn't trust himself with me. I'm not ready. We don't touch, but we stay close. He stands at the counter cutting bread, and I lean across from him picking crumbs with my fingers. I wash the dishes and he dries. We spy on Effie and Haymitch when they think they aren't being watched. I leave game on his doorstep. He leaves cheese buns on my counter. We co-exist apart.

But some days aren't yours. They start against your will, they drag on and take you with them. You don't want to move on. You don't want to stand still. You can't go back. But time just pushes you forward anyway. Days like this I spend in my closet. I don't let Haymitch in. I don't let Effie in. I cry for my sister. I cry for Finnick. I cry for that woman I killed in the Capitol. I haven't learned her name. I don't plan to. Some days I just sit in the closet silently. Some days Peeta comes and sits on the other side of the door. He doesn't talk either.

One spell seems to drag on and I can't snap myself out of it. Dr. Aurelius calls. I don't answer. In the middle of the night, I crawl out of my closet and stand outside my sister's door. I put my hand on the handle and dare myself to turn it. I just want to be close to her again, if just for a minute. I know it's not a good idea, but I turn the knob and creep inside.

Her room is dark. I click on the light and everything about her floods my senses. The smell of her. The taste of the stash of hard candy she kept in her nightstand. I take one of her hair ribbons and smooth the silk between my fingers. I rub it against my lips and whisper her name. I crawl into her closet, surrounded by tiny dresses. I remember her beaming at Cinna when he showed her the shimmery gold dress she would wear to the Harvest Festival. I remember Cinna draping her, pinning her hair against her head. I remember how the dress matched his eyeliner. Prim said so. It made her feel special. I find the dress and pull it from it's hanger. I lie in her closet and let the tears fill my eyes. That's when I hear the front door creak.

"Katniss?" I hear Peeta call out my name in a hushed whisper. I hear his feet cross to my staircase. He's never had a soft footfall. He walks slowly up the the steps. "Katniss?" he calls a little louder this time. He stands at the threshold of Prim's door. "Katniss, I saw the light in Prim's room. Are you okay in there?" I stay silent. I am catatonic in the closet. I'm not here anymore, I'm in another time where Prim twirls around my living room while Cinna claps his hands.

"Can I come in?" I don't answer.

"Can I not come in?" I don't answer that either.

I hear Peeta cross the threshold. Inside I burn with fury. This is my place, no one else's. This is private. This is where Prim is. Peeta crouches outside the closet door. I remain a shell on the outside.

"I remember that dress. Prim talked about it for days after. I think she told me she slept in it the night of the Harvest Festival."

"She did," I whisper.

"What?" Peeta says, not hearing me.

"She did. She slept in it."

"That doesn't surprise me at all." He sits on the floor. His back is on the door frame and he faces me. He rests his head back and takes in all the dresses in the closet. Slowly, his hand slips toward mine. I see it coming. He's moving very slowly. When the tips of our fingers meet, I look at him. He weaves his fingers into mine. Our palms press together. We sit there all night.

The next morning, Haymitch comes upstairs to pull me out of bed after I don't come down for breakfast. He walks past Prim's room to mine, and panics when he realizes I'm not there. I hear him stomp down to the front hall, and when he finds my hunting jacket still hanging in the closet, his step quickens. I can hear him pacing the hallway until he finally stops when he notices the door to Prim's room is ajar. He pushes the door open and peers inside. He sees Peeta sitting in the door frame of the closet. They silently nod at one another, and Haymitch closes the door. That's another day gone.

Eventually I leave the room and Peeta goes home. A few days later, I come downstairs for dinner. I sit at the table and Effie smiles at me warmly. She's not very domestic. She doesn't cook. This meal was prepared by Peeta. He's made a meat pie with a sage gravy. It smells like heaven, and when I cut into it, the juices gush out onto my plate. I think what a good husband he'll make someday. For someone. The mood around the table is jovial. Haymitch laughs heartily as Effie describes an unfortunate trip into Town. Most of the townspeople don't trust her after years of reaping their children, and they misdirect her whenever they can. She's taken to walking the opposite direction of wherever she's been told. I feel bad that Effie is such a pariah here. I feel something. Well, that's a start.

After dinner, Peeta and I wash the dishes as Effie and Haymitch settle in front of the TV to watch Plutarch's new singing show. I know they are lingering on purpose. They are worried about me. When Peeta dries and puts away the last dish, I turn to him and face him directly.

"Thank you," I say.

"You're welcome, Katniss."

"Not for the dish." I lace my fingers carefully in his. He meets my eyes with uncertainty in his brow. "For loving Prim. For missing her." He releases a breath I hadn't realized he'd been holding. Prim's loss was devastating for him too. He raises his hand and smooths his palm across my cheek, tangling his fingers in my hair. I rest my forehead on his chest. We hear the front door close and realize our guardians have left us alone. We don't do alone.

He drops his lips to the top of my head and whispers "I should go" into my my hair. My grip on his hand tightens, and one of my spare fingers hooks into his belt loop.

"Yeah, you should go." I pull him closer.

"I'm going." His stomach is flesh with mine. His fingers are tracing circles on my scalp. I lift my face and breathe into his neck. He nuzzles his chin down. I press a soft kiss onto his skin. My stomach tightens and I feel my skin tingling. We stand like this for a while in my kitchen. Holding each other. Swaying slightly. He twirls my hair in his fingers. I trace burn scars on his arm. I listen to his heart beat. He listens to me breathe.

Finally, he kisses the top of my head and pulls away. He walks slowly to the door and turns back to me. "Goodnight, Katniss."

"Night," I say.