I cover my face with my arms because this isn't happening. It isn't possible. For someone to make Peeta forget he loves me . . . no one can do that.
The morphlings from District 6 are in the camouflage station, painting each other's faces with bright pink swirls.
I take Peeta's face in my hands. "Don't worry. I'll see you at midnight.
They recognize me. Of course they recognize me. My face is uncovered and I'm standing here outside of District 12 pointing an arrow at them. Who else would I be?
The anguish I always feel when she's in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face.
Buttercup, miserable even with Prim’s constant attention, huddles in the cube and exhales cat breath in my face.
They erase my face with a layer of pale makeup and draw my features back out.