She was in her best dress, which was fortunate, she guessed, since she was called up to the stage at the reaping. Now, she sat in an isolated room within the city hall after saying her final goodbyes. Now, Rue sat waiting for the end to come. There were 24 tributes, only one would come out.
He knew it was wrong to cling to their memories together, to hope for something other than the barely composed look on her face that showed she was fighting against a breakdown. He knew he had no right to want to grab her, to whisk her into his arms and hold her there forever just to make up for all the lost time. He knew it was wrong to want her, not now. Not ever.