The lovely sound of birds of early spring awake me. It's different to finally hear them in the morning again. Winter is always so bleak here, since District 7 is in Panem's very harsh Northwest region. Needless to say they aren't many birds during our frigid winters.

In about two to three months (depending on the date set) we'll be holding the 75th Hunger Games. Today, a day late in April, marks another kind of games. Something just as nerve-wrecking.

Oh how I wish I was a child again…

"Ara?" My little sister whispers as I sit up and get out of bed.

"Get some more sleep, Ame." I whisper back and she shifts in bed. "I'm going to start breakfast," I say tiredly with a slight yawn.

Shuffling into the kitchen I find my mother already at the fire place, working on frying our last five eggs. Father is in his broken down, tattered arm chair, reading a copy of the Capitol's newspaper. As I head towards mother I hear him snort. He slaps the paper down on the tiny wooden table in front of him. I glance down and get distracted by the image of our lovely soon-to-be president, Daivat on the front page.

His grin is bright, revealing perfectly white and straightened teeth. His eyes look out towards the crowds surrounding the mansion in appreciation. He has his grandfather's stare in that sense.

I see the way he reacts to them so arrogantly, waving and grinning like all of Panem wants to marry him.

He's wrong.

Because I don't.

"Has anyone said how these games are to be played?" My mother asks quietly. My brother staggers into the room, giving a loud yawn as he takes a seat in one of the hard wooden chairs.

My father shrugs, "No. The only information everyone was given was the things they told us over the announcement. Everyone's taking it as simply a beauty contest…"

"If it's a fight to the death then I'd rather die," I mumble.

My mother says, "Ara. Look at me."

I take my eyes off of the eggs and meet her eyes perfectly, since we're the same height. She gives me a look that makes me regret even mumbling that statement.

"If it comes down to that. I want you to fight. It's not worth your life. Plus, I heard that for every week you stay in the competition your family gets food, water and money."

She holds my gaze intensely until I tear my eyes away and flip the eggs. I say, "Either way my life will be over… and that's just another rumour."

"But life in the Capitol would be better than death," my father says gruffly.

I take the eggs out and place them on little dishes. One per person in the house. Amelie seems to be drawn into the kitchen by the smells of fresh food.

"How do you know that the afterlife isn't better?" I challenge him.

My brother stops the conversation, biting back anger and frustration. "Can we just please stop talking about this?"

Everyone agrees and we eat breakfast trying to make conversation about other things… but what is there? How the logging business is doing? It's fine. Even though, most people in District 7 still don't eat nearly as well as District 1 or 2 or 4, we live a pretty good life compared to those in 12 and 11.

As the time nears late afternoon—two o clock is when we must be in the square—my mother pulls me into my room alone.

"Let me do your hair," she says, starting to brush it with her own bristle brush. It doesn't need much, so she simply leaves it down and wavy, falling down my back and shoulder like an almond-colored waterfall.

Then she walks out of the room and comes back in with the most elaborate, prettiest dress she owns. She didn't even let me wear it for the reaping last year. In fact, until now she hasn't even let me see it.

"Mother," I start. "The point is to make me look ugly, not pretty."

"No matter what you put on, you're still going to be a possibility for them, Ara," she says solemnly. I want to disagree but I know I can't. I've already had a marriage offer from one of the other logger's sons.

In all my life I never imagined that I would wish to be unattractive.

"But Diamante is definitely more attractive than me," I say insistently. "And she's a mayor's daughter. She wants to marry Daivat, just like all of the other Capitol-lovers."

"Maybe once they start to narrow it down you'll be sent back home…" I know she'll be the worst to react if I leave. Never mind Amelie, my mother would be heartbroken. I'm her first born daughter; the one that helps cook and clean. I even helped her birth my little sister.

But I try not to imagine that possibility.

Slipping into the soft cotton fabric, which is a dulled shade of yellow, I let her tie the ribbon that fastens it to me in the back. She pulls the ribbon into a bow, making my waist look even tinier than it already is.

I am not thankful for this.

"Can I at least make myself look fat?" I ask desperately.

She almost laughs but instead just says, "They would find the stuffing when they patted you down, Ara."

I sigh and look into the mirror at the pretty girl in the yellow dress. The girl that would most likely be picked for the first round and then weeded out afterwards. At least, that's what I'm hoping will happen. I keep telling myself there are far more attractive girls my age around here. It gives me a little assurance; makes me feel a little safer.

At one-fifty the bell sounds, just like for the reaping before the Hunger Games. People begin to reluctantly come out of their houses and walk towards the square. It will only take my family and I about ten minutes to get there. We live quite on the outskirts of District 7, but the square isn't in the center of our district. It's more near the edge.

I spot one of my best friends since birth, Violet walking out of her house with her little brother in toe. Her parents follow the pair close behind. Her long, straight black hair swishes as she walks. It's come to almost her backend now and still manages to never tangle or curl. I think of her chances of getting picked. She might. However, once they discover all the burn marks on her arms and chest from her family's bakery business they might send her home. Other than that she has a pretty face. She even kind of looks like me; dainty little nose, a light spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks, a perfectly round face and perfect rosy cheeks and feminine chin. We could be mistaken for sisters if she didn't have jet black hair and eyes the color of tree bark.

As we walk I make it my job to point out other, prettier girls. I make a list in my head of who could get chosen before me and who had a greater chance of going to the Capitol.

Diamante is the first one I note in the back of my mind. She'll certainly be one.

Emery Finch could be another one. She's got the most feminine facial features I've ever seen in this District, and cat-like hazel eyes that almost look golden in the sunlight. She hardly does any work because her father manages the lumber going into the transport to the Capitol.

Odessa Pine is another one that might make it that far. She's always flirting her way out of doing work. Though, if they check her virginity they might be displeased. But hey, maybe Daivat wants someone with experience.

As I go down the list in my head I try to think of all the things that are wrong with me. Take for instance my dry, cracked hands and irregularly cut nails. There's all the herb stains—that were mostly washed off in last night's bath unfortunately. My skin isn't lightly tanned or glowing like other girls'—just very fair in complexion. I have some bruising from where I've held logs for the fireplace in my arms or where patients have held onto me tightly while a wound is being closed. They're from a few nights ago… but then I realize those are all reversible things. Things that can be fixed by a skilled team of stylists.

I say goodbye to my family with kisses and hugs.

"Don't worry, Ara. You'll be fine," my father assures me. My mother doesn't say anything. She just clasps the necklace around my neck. I wonder if the Capitol officials will take it away from me when I'm evaluated.

My sister hugs me so tightly I can almost feel the air being squeezed out of my lungs. My brother—who normally never shows affection towards anyone—hugs me too. He whispers, "You're strong, Ara. You can make it through anything."

"Thanks," I whisper back into his ear before we pull away and I head for the line of girls.

Violet ends up being in front of me. They're taking people's blood like at the Hunger Games reaping. It's a pretty long line. I had no idea there were this many girls around my age in District 7. Maybe I do stand a chance of being weeded out…

"Ready?" Vi says quietly.

I shake my head slightly. "Not at all."

There's nervous murmurs about whether this competition will be a fight to the death or a beauty pageant. Some girls gush over how handsome Daivat is. Some girls are already crying and whimpering things about wanting to go home. I know some of them have boyfriends, but have not filled out engagement or marriage papers yet, so they were forced to come today.

I'm happy to say that all those years of being too stubborn to cry have paid off. Even though my mother chides me for not releasing my emotions I know it's a valuable skill. Right now my expression reads as bored, unlike the flustered look that's on Violet's face right now. Her face is turning redder by the second.

I feel the familiar prick in my finger as I reach the table. They tell me to follow the roped path. It goes into the Justice Building. I guess this isn't like a Hunger Games reaping because our families are standing where we would usually stand. Our Capitol escort for the Hunger Games, Atticus Archer is standing at the doors to the Justice Building, his hands clasped in front of him and his chin up regally. He's known to be the nicest escort, but also a bit like District 12 and 9's escorts—refined and couture.

The line into the building is just as long. But before five minutes is up something flashes across the screens they've set up.

Atticus's voice rings out over the speakers. "Attention, District 7! We have our first tribute of the day! Miss. Diamante Buckley!"

Diamante's face flashes onto the screen. She doesn't even look shocked. She looks… happy.

"Won't she be happy to be with all the refined scum in the Capitol," Violet mumbles. I almost slap her for saying that with a million peacekeepers surrounding us. But I know that will only make things worse. So, I simply nod my head in agreement and stare up at Diamante in all her glory. She smiles into the camera, blinking her bright blue eyes rapidly in excitement.

A long period of time goes by before someone else is picked—someone else I thought of. Emery Finch is depicted on the screen. Though, she looks more sad than happy. I remember, she's had a crush on one of the boys at school since we were young. I bet they started to talk right before this happened. She must be really upset about that. I know I would be… if there were anyone decent by my standards around here. Most of the boys are too arrogant for my taste.

Take the one that asked to marry me, for example. Oleic Jacoby is his name. He's the son of a squad leader who is friends with my father. He's also the biggest jerk I've ever met. Needless to say I told him flat-out no.

Two more girls get picked; Lizabelle Maple and Dicey Larkwren. Both are far more primped and primed than Vi and I. Then another girl, Cecilia Wood gets chosen. She's the only one I've seen so far with bright red auburn hair. The brightness of it on the screen almost makes me jump. A few more girls get called out and flashed onto the screen.

I jump when someone says, "Next!"

Two peacekeepers take me inside. They let me sit outside a room in a chair next to three other girls that were before me. They go first and then it's my turn.

Upon entering I'm greeted with an, "Oh, thank god!"

It startles me and I look up to see a man in his late forties smiling at me. I furrow my brows in concern. He says cheerfully, "I have a good feeling about this one."

Oh no, I think, this can't be happening. He can't actually like me, right?

His two female assistants grab me roughly by the arms and lead me over to him. He takes out a tiny flashlight and inspects my eyes.

"Beautiful blue eyes, the darkest blue I've ever seen. The color of the night sky! Note that!" he comments. Another girl jots that down on a notepad.

He asks me to remove my dress. I'm left in just my bra and underwear. It's cold and goose bumps surface on my skin. He apologizes, surprisingly and says, "Perfect complexion with adorable little freckles across the nose and cheeks. Note that, Lexia... a beautiful thick head of hair… golden, light brown in color… minor bruising around the arms that can be reversed quickly… dry skin on the hands and wrists…"

He looks up at me and asks, "You don't know what bra size you are, do you, dear?"

I blink in response, not even knowing what he's talking about. My bra is supposed to have a size? I guess I'm on the middle-range because I have some substantial breasts.

"I guess about a B," he says, nodding to the note-taker. "You're one of the curvier ones… hour glass figure… how did you get all that muscle mass?"

"W—what?" I ask, unsure of myself. I mean, it's not like you can get fat or gain muscle when there's barely anything to eat. I wonder if he's kidding around…

He chuckles, "How are you so muscular? Do you work outside?"

"Sometimes," I say hesitantly. "I try to help my brother and father."

"Well it's certainly paid off," he says with a smile. "You have a gorgeous figure… some slight bruising and scratches but those can be fixed within hours with the correct treatment."

He takes out a measuring rope and measures my waist, height and breasts. I'm surprised to find that I'm actually shorter than I'd originally thought. I was off by about two inches. I'm actually five foot one and a half to be exact.

The man seems unable to control his excitement as I pull my dress back on. He yells, "We have another tribute!"

Suddenly I feel the air escape my lungs. My mouth goes dry and I stare at him in shock. It doesn't really register with me until a camera man bursts through the doorway and is pointing a camera in my face. I must look like a deer, cornered by a hunter.

I feel the peacekeepers tug me along, out of the room. I stumble and plead in whispers, "Please, no…"

I can already imagine what my family is going through right now. Mother is probably crying… but there's still hope for me yet. They still have to narrow it down to three. There's a ton of us by the time the reaping is over—the first stage at least.

I'm seated in a private room with the rest of the girls. We're basically crammed in; it's very uncomfortable. Through the one window I can see that it's getting dark. I wonder if my family is still there…

No one says a single word. Not one statement. Not even whispers.

The man starts with the first girls, which means I'm near the beginning. By the time he gets to me it's apparent that whatever he's doing in there is leaving a mark on everyone. Even Diamante comes back into the room with a stunned look on her face.

When I enter the room I notice that it's not the same one I was in before. It has a cushioned examination chair, like at the apothecary shop in the middle of the District. I see the same people; him and his assistants.

The first thing he says is, "I'm going to need to ask you to remove your undergarment. You don't have to take off the dress this time."

I hesitate before deciding I better do it or get arrested. I slip off my underwear. One of the women takes it and places it on a metal table. Another woman leads me over to the chair and almost has to force me into it. She grabs my ankles and places my feet in two holders so that my legs are wide open.

I suddenly realize that we use this all the time to help women deliver children.

"W—what are you doing?" I can't help but ask and try to close my legs. I see she's tied them to the holders though. I feel suddenly vulnerable and exposed. I don't like it very much, even though she's a girl, too.

"Just checking to see if you are still a virgin. You'll feel slight pressure. That's just me inserting the speculum."

"The what?" I ask. My healer never told me anything about any speculum. But before she can respond I feel something being thrust up into me and gasp. I clench the sides of the chair with my hands, letting out noises of discomfort. "Please take it out, it hurts," I ask politely.

She draws back and the pain ceases. I collapse my legs together once I'm un-tied. She laughs to herself, "I can't wait to see how you girls react to your first time with a man if you can't even take that…" She smiles at the stylist, "She's 100% pure, sir."

The statement alarms me even more. Does it really hurt that much? Mother never explained it to me exactly… a bunch of girls in school sort of spread the word when I was thirteen.

They weigh me this time, too.

"Ah," the man says, "One-hundred and fifteen pounds. Perfect percent of muscle, too."

I'm sent away once they're done poking and prodding me. The next dozen or more girls go in, coming back out looking as stunned as I am… well, except for Odessa, but she's done it before. I'm sure they've found out by now and she won't be getting any further. My best guess would be Emery Finch, Diamante Buckley and Cecilia Wood are going to be the final three.

As everyone begins to get restless and I'm near falling asleep I hear talking just outside the door. The man that inspected all of us comes bursting in with Atticus and another Capitol person.

"I know you must all be tired from waiting here all this time and such… so now it is time that I announce the three finalists that will be taken to the Capitol and further narrowed down there." He clears his throat, adding even more suspense to the already tense situation.

I grip the velvet cushion on the chair as he says, "Diamante Buckley, Emery Finch," and Cecilia Wood… right?

"And Ardaigh Fyrn."

What?

As all the other girls heave a sigh of relief I feel Emery reach over and touch my hand. I meet her eyes, which are filling with tears. She must really love that boy—her neighbor.

This is the one time when we both wish we hadn't grown up to be pretty.

"We will be presenting you in less than a minute. All the others must leave first and then we shall go out on the presenting patio outside," Atticus says in a refined, Capitol accent.

The other girls are herded out of the room, throwing us pity-filled glances. As if they actually have some apathy. They're just happy they didn't get picked. They have no idea what it's like right now. I can barely breathe and my heart is about to pound itself out of my chest. Beads of sweat start to form on my forehead. I can feel them, just like when I heave wood off the holder in our yard to bring inside.

"Are we ready?" Atticus asks, motioning towards the door. Diamante is the first one up out of her seat. She's all smiles and handshakes. What a mayor's daughter…

Emery and I hesitantly get up and follow Atticus and Diamante out of the room. In no time at all we are standing outside in the cool night air. Spotlights blaze on us and camera men focus their lenses towards the stage.

Someone is counting down behind us, telling Atticus, "And District 7's tributes being filmed live in three… two… one…"

"Good Evening, all!" Atticus booms into the microphone in his sophisticated drawl. "We have our District 7 Tributes, all three of them, ready to be deployed to the Capitol! We have Diamante Buckley," he says first. Her face flashes onto the screen. She smiles and waves at the camera. I'm too distracted with trying to pinpoint my family in the crowd to care about the lenses focused intently on me.

"Definitely not that one… she's beautiful really, but," Daivat says to his grandfather as they watch District 7's first tribute flash onto the screen. "I don't know… a bit too loving of the cameras… we'll see…"

His grandfather chuckles, "Of course…"

The next girl flashes onto the screen, revealing a far less confident face, with teary eyes and a solemn expression.

"Too depressed," Daivat says simply. "Don't even bother bringing her here," he orders Salvatore.

The last girl is hopeful, with more of a stunned look on her face. She seems distracted and looks into the crowd with desperate eyes. She's looking for something—her family, probably. But it's her eyes that draw him in. They sparkle under the spotlights, wide open and big with an innocent look about them. But before he can say something her face is cut off by the camera shooting back to Atticus.

"That one… she's in the top twelve," Daivat says with a nod. "As long as the interviews go well, I want her in the finals."

Salvatore takes his commands and calls Atticus shortly after the live feed goes from District 7 to District 8.

"Yes, he wants to narrow it down to the mayor's daughter and that Ardaigh girl… no, the other one is not to be transported to the Capitol. That would be a waste of time," Salvatore says into his communications device. Atticus agrees, happy that he won't have to worry about sending the other two home anymore. Now, he can focus on just one girl instead of three.

District 1, 2, 4, 5, 6 and 9 end up bringing all two girls along and the rest of the districts are to bring three to the Capitol.

Shock isn't the word for my feelings right now. I feel dizzy as Atticus takes me by the arm and leads me back into the Justice Building. I take note that only Diamante is being led in after me. That confuses my already foggy mind even more.

"Miss. Fyrn; Miss. Buckley," Atticus says as we enter the same room I waited in before with the girls. "You two are our semi-finalists for District 7. I received a call from the Capitol that told me to make sure that you were the only ones to be taken along."

My jaw drops in a very un-ladylike way, while Diamante squeals in excitement and he explains, "It happened to a few other Districts, also."

But that doesn't help. I stutter and stumble over the words wanting to spill from my mouth as he begins to walk out the door. He shouts over his shoulder, "Your family and friends will be in to say goodbye soon!"

The door slams shut. The loud noise hides my first attempt at covering up a quiet sob. I can't cry, not in front of Amelie at least—or my mother.

"Ara!" Amelie screams, bursting into the room and throwing her arms around my waist. She clenches tightly and won't let go. I manage to tear her away and sit down on the plush chair. I take her face in my hands. The tears rolling down her cheeks only serve to add to the stinging behind my eyes.

"Amelie, listen to me," I say in a calm tone of voice. It's taking everything in me to keep my voice from quivering. "I'll be fine. I'll come back home. Everything will be okay, alright? I love you."

"I love you too," she chokes on her tears, falling upon me with another embrace.

I stand and embrace the rest of my family. Surprisingly, Colin holds me the longest.

He whispers, "I know I never tell you often, but I love you, Ardaigh. You're still my first baby sister."

I know our time is nearing an end, so I say, "I'll be alright. Worry about feeding yourselves, please. And whatever you see happen on the screens… just don't cry for me, okay?"

None of them can make that promise, but they try to nod in slight agreement. A peacekeeper comes to the door and tells us our time is up. They all give me a kiss on the cheek before being escorted away.

Violet; my one and only friend is the next one to come and visit me. She enters with tears leaking out of her eyes. I know she's trying to look strong but she's never been an emotionally resilient person like I am. She's too sensitive.

"I don't want to lose you; I love you," she says. "You're my best friend, Ara…"

I give her a hug and reply, "You're stronger than you think, Vi. Please don't cry for me, my family is already doing that. I don't want anyone else to."

"But what if they make it a fight to the death or… or…."

"They won't," I say, half to reassure myself and half to reassure Violet. Okay, so it's more to reassure myself.

She sighs, "The Capitol isn't merciful, Ara…"

I shush her and the peacekeeper comes in, announcing the time is up. We say goodbye and she leaves.

Atticus enters and states that we will be leaving at once for the Capitol. I only nod in response and follow him out, touching my grandmother's necklace gently. The cool metal feels unlike anything I've ever touched before. It's genuine gold. I notice that no one has said anything about it. Though, this isn't the Hunger Games. It's just… a beauty contest, to be honest. Right? Yeah, I'll just keep telling myself that…

The ride in the elevator is awkwardly silent. It's just me, Diamante, five peacekeepers, Atticus and the lady whose name I have yet to know.

Then we go outside.

"Ardaigh! Ardaigh! Diamante! Diamante!" Cameramen and reporters shout and yell our names right up until we arrive at the train station, just a short walk from the Justice Building.

By the time we get on the train my mind is racing, my palms are sweaty and I can barely breathe. I feel like I'm going to vomit. Diamante, on the other hand is beaming and giggling.

"Not one for attention and cameras, are you?" Atticus's voice echoes behind me. I simply nod.

Then, he turns to Diamante and chuckles, "You, on the other hand remind me of Daivat himself."

He motions for us to sit at the table, where I see not one plate of food for each of us, but ten or more, stacked on iron plate holders and scattered around the big table.

Food. Tons of the stuff, just sitting there waiting for me.

We sit and I look up at him, silently wondering if this is really all for me, or just reserved for him. Even Diamante looks overwhelmed but the amount of meat, cheese, vegetables and bread before her. We both are probably wondering the same thing; is this a joke? Knowing the Capitol they would pull something like that.

But he simply nods and motions towards the wonderful delicacies sitting in glimmering silver plates. "Go ahead," he drawls in a refined Capitol accent.

As I begin to pick out one of each delectable meat, vegetable and sweet on the table he speaks again.

"Now, Ardaigh; Diamante I just want you to know that anything you want to say can be said in front of us. Winnie and I are now your advisors. You can trust us with anything—we and your stylists will be like a family to you from now on," he says quite softly.

I look up to see his eyes trained on me. Winnie is beside him, jotting down notes—about what I have no idea. What I do know is that this chicken breast is deliciously juicy…

"Uh… that man from the reaping won't be a stylist, right?" I ask, wincing at the thought. Diamante shudders beside me. I'm guessing she didn't take a liking to him, either.

He chuckles, "Oh absolutely not. The stylists that will be bidding for the twelve of the finalists will all be different. They'll be ones that haven't done the reaping process nor the Hunger Games. They'll be fresh and brand new, ready to set the stage for something spectacular."

"Oh," is all I can say in response. That was more of a response than I needed.

He walks away with Winnie and lets Diamante and I gorge our little hearts out. But when we finally stop; completely stuffed, I feel as if it's all going to come back up. I haven't had that full of a meal in… well… my entire life. With the way my family and I have eaten it's amazing I grew breasts, a rear end and muscle at all. Oh, the wonders of womanhood.

Diamante turns to me and says, "So, why aren't you excited?"

I look over at her, seeing that her question is completely serious. She's staring at me like I'm strange. Little does she know, I think she is strange for wanting to marry him.

I answer, "I like home… and I… I don't even know him."

"Well, I heard he's going to get to know us," she insists with a bright smile. "But, hey if you don't want him I'll take him."

I give her a half-hearted smile. "You can have him."

"Are we all stuffed, darlings?!" A familiar squeaky voice asks.

Winnie comes back, flipping her honey blonde, pink tinted hair over one shoulder and smiling. "Come on, I'll show you your compartments," she says happily.

I, a little groggy from gorging myself, wander behind her and Diamante until we arrive at a door down the hall. It opens to reveal nothing like I've ever seen before. The bed is bigger than mine and Amelie's bedroom altogether. Soft satin sheets and luxurious fabrics coat the comfy-looking mattress, with pillows to match. It's dark, with the silky dark red curtains blocking out the light of the moon. The lights are dimmed, making me sway with sleepiness.

"Your bathroom and closet are both over there," Winnie says, pointing to two doors on the right side of the room, on either side of the bureau.

I nod and she leaves me to stand, in awe of it all. The first thing I do is turn on the projector screen, sitting on the bureau. It flashes on to a dramatic fiction show at first. I turn it on to the most-watched channel; the Capitol's official news/entertainment channel.

They're in the middle of a recap of today's reapings. And I'm on next. They show three pretty girls from District 6, who look more confident than me. They actually look happy to be nominated. Though, I can only imagine the conflicts that are bound to arise during their time on the train. Putting three pretty girls like Diamante together is a bad idea. She only gets along with me because she knows I don't want this and won't fight for it.

Then there's me. There on the screen, looking like a deer trapped under a hunter's gaze. My big eyes look even more wide as I scan the crowd for my family. The commentator—including the voice of Caesar Flickerman.

"Ah, such beautiful eyes!" One shouts, "Certainly fit for Daivat to gaze into, hm?"

"Definitely, my friend, she's absolutely stunning, and so is the mayor's daughter, Diamante. The meaning of her name does her great justice! A sparkling gemstone, she is!"

Of course I would get cut off thanks to Diamante. I'm half grateful for it and half hating her for being so damn flawless.

But I guess she's the definition of beauty to the people in the Capitol. I don't know why I'm even here. She's far more beautiful than me. I'm just… normal. There's nothing truly stunning about me, so I don't know what those commentators were talking about.

Maybe I'll wake up and discover it's all just a dream.