Morning After The Interviews, Seven (@dcwnhardin)
He’s been thinking of District Seven. A welcome respite from thinking about the Quell. Thinking of his parents’ house, the one that was always full, and loud, and crowded. His parents took care of people. For all too brief of a time, they took care of Dawn. We could have grown up brothers, Dawn said on that stage last night. And maybe they hadn’t grown up that way, but they’re brothers now nonetheless.
Brothers in misery, at the very least.
It had been hard, to watch Dawn’s interview from the wings, to see the tears spill over. He can’t imagine how he’ll feel tonight, sending Harbor onto the stage, knowing he can’t do anything else for him. Not knowing if he’s done anything for him at all.
There’s so much suffering, all around him. He thought, for a long time, that he could just—exempt himself from all of that. Refuse to feel it. Now, though, he’s drowning in it.
But he’s never had to lick his wounds alone. For years and year now, there’s been Dawn. They can take Harbor from him, all of his memories of Twig and all of the things that Twig confided in him, but they haven’t yet taken Dawn. He wants to believe they never will. “It’s the last day,” he says to him by way of greeting. “I don’t know about you, but I feel like I’m—at loose ends.”
Lost, he means, and he’s sure that it’s obvious.