Now 38 weeks along, I look like a whale.Corection. A whale with stretch marks.
A scent of burnt bread fills our home, I look at Peeta.
"Honey?" I glance over to the kitchen "The bread."Peeta runs to the kitchen.I hear a few swear words followed by some slamming.Then Peeta's back.
"Again?Why do I keep burning the bread?"
"If it weren't for you burning it the first time,Prim and I would have gone hungery."I say."You saved our lives." I start to choke up. Prim's dead now,I think. Gone forever.
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