One more time? For the audience?" he says. His voice isn't angry. It's hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me.
I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.

Autore: Suzanne Collins

One more time? For the audience?" he says. His voice isn't angry. It's hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me.<br />I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go. - Suzanne Collins


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