The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
8 min @ Salt on Ossington
He was looking down at her kindly – even the cloudy left eye had a kindness to it. They’d been standing outside the “Done Crossing Market” for fifteen minutes. The night bus was always inconsistent. She kept telling him she wasn’t cold and he kept telling her the bus would be there any minute. They were a pair of liars, but a perfect fit. Every misfit has its match and they’d found each other. She ran her man-sized hands up and down his arms sharing the little warmth she had, smiling into his one good eye. She didn’t have much, but she had joy.
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