Familiarizing

We walked a scenic route from the institution-that was the word that he had used-to my new home. It was a lovely penthouse building located in the heart of what he called the City Circle. He told me that I would have the best view. The building itself must have been constructed very recently due to the interior shimmering like the sun. Then again, everything in the Capitol seemed to shimmer.

The President did not loiter. He simply handed me the key to my penthouse, told me the number, and offered a word of advice.

"Be careful who you talk to, Miss Trinket. We would not want you falling in with a bad crowd again."

I nodded, telling him that I understood his meaning, and saw him off. He walked with the bodyguards in sight, stopping once or twice to observe the happenings of his city. Within moments, he had disappeared.

I walked into the lobby of my new home and observed the casualty of the dwellers. They all seemed to know one another, speaking in loud tones of radiant fashions and ephemeral styles. I glided past unnoticed, thrilled and enthralled with the enchantments of my establishment.

The elevator itself must have been made of solid gold, crafted from some district far away. District? Humming a jaunty tune, I stepped into the elevator and waited until the doors closed. The President told me that I lived on the top floor, the twelfth according to the elevator buttons. When the elevator stopped, I took note of the single grand door that led to my home. I breathed a sigh of relief, I had made it. I was finally free.

The home itself had many splendors. A grand bedroom that contained a queen size for my pleasure. A bathroom with a luxurious shower, accustomed to my every whim. A kitchen with enough amenities to last me a lifetime. The President had not been exaggerating; the view was simply spectacular.

I simply could not take it all in at once. Almost forgetting the envelope, I sat on my brand new couch, a wrap-around that circumvented the length of the room in front of my grand television set. Before I opened the letter, I observed a simple flower vase placed onto a coffee table near my feet. In it, sat a rose.

"How quaint!" I exclaimed to no one.

The envelope felt thick, dangerously thick as if something could have been hiding inside, waiting for me to drop my guard. The President's talk of people falsifying my memory had gotten to me. I felt exposed, nervous for the first time in my new home. Trying to shake it off, I opened the envelope with a glorious rip.

I was holding the envelope at a bad angle. All the contents spilled onto the floor, scattering under my couch and across the chartreuse carpet. Embarrassment struck me, even though I knew no one could see my blunder. At least I hoped that no one could see me.

The collected documents were a medley of information. I had a card documenting my identification. It listed my name, my birth date, my new address, and mentioned that I had blue eyes. There was also a student identification card for Games school. I put the cards onto the coffee table, reminding myself to pick them up later.

An introduction paper sat in the pile. It stated that Games school was to start in a few days. I should be reacquainted with the town in the meantime. The penthouse was paid for by the President himself. Under the paper, a disc sat in my lap. The disc was labeled Hunger Games. I did not understand what that meant, but some vague sense in my stirred.

Suddenly, the phone rang.

I leapt up, alarmed, and searched frantically for the source of the noise. On the wall, I could see vibrations, visible vibrations, spread out from around the phone. Hurrying over, I lifted the phone from its cradle and put it to my ear.

"Miss Trinket?"

"Yes?" I spoke back cheerfully.

"This is the front desk of your penthouse calling. We are welcoming you to your new home with this phone call and encouraging you to call us at anytime. Please feel free to help yourself to our spa facility, pool, or bar in the lounge."

"Thank you," I gleefully responded.

"Can we offer you some complementary room service?" the voice inquired.

"Not right now, thank you. I look forward to checking out my new home," and with that I promptly hung up.

Following the note's advice, I decided to look around and reacquaint myself with the Capitol. I gathered up my identification card, my school card, and a credit card that I found inside the envelope, and left the room. The elevator carried me down to the lobby where the concierges urged me to "Have a wonderful day!"

The Capitol became more and more familiar as I explored. Once, I encountered a park and was almost knocked over by a wave of nostalgia. On my life, I could not remember any details before my incarceration. Even if I could, I did not think that they would be very helpful. I felt lost.

The City Circle looked a bit more familiar. I correctly identified a building as a shabby bar, having no earthly idea how I recognized it. My feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying me around from place to place. Finally, I stopped walking at the basin of a large fountain. Again, I got the feeling that something gargantuan was going to occur.

As if on cue, an elderly couple strolled past. The man wore spectacles and sported a respectable jacket. He held an arm around a delicate, frail woman with a wig that accentuated her features. They walked methodically past the fountain, talking in wondrous whispers. I leaned in closer instinctively, not quite in control.

"Now, now dear," the man spoke, "We must hurry if we want to catch the early dinner. You know that I cannot stay up past 7."

"Of course," whisked the woman, "You were never one for late-night activities."

Their voices struck me. I instantly recognized them with a flood of knowing. I rushed up to the couple and tapped the woman politely on the arm. She spun, surprised, and then caught my eye.

"My stars," she whispered astonished.

"What did you say?" asked the man, stopping to see the happenings.

He spun around and met my eyes, too. As if clockwork, he recognized me, too.

"Effie," they whispered together.

"Mother," I greeted the woman, "Father."

We stood there flabbergasted as Capitol citizens strolled by, unaware of the miracle that had just occurred.

"It has been too long," the man dismissed the thought with some strife, "It cannot be you, Effie. We thought you had left the Capitol. We thought you disappeared."

"No, never," I responded with sympathy.

A part of me surged out to them, wanting their love and companionship. In the back of my mind, however, warning bells went off. I had no clue how they had come across me, or how I knew who they were. In the institution, I did not speak of them.

I could see my resemblance in my mother's face. We had those matching blue eyes, full of tears now due to the unexpected reunion. I took note of my father's once strong face, wizened and deepen by the wrinkles of time. For a split second, I could not fathom reality.

"Why don't you join us for dinner, dear?" asked mother graciously.

I nodded and we walked silently to the restaurant that they were headed towards.