Coralee Emberstatt | District 10 | Done

Coralee Emberstatt | 23 | District 10

I sit outside a cafe in the heart of the district, my thick full lips softly parted as I sip on a latte as she watches the people stroll on by. The dark tint of my glasses hides the way my deep, near-black eyes shrewdly analyze the scene. I can still feel my nicely trimmed, softly arched eyebrows emote as I commentate to myself. It's not even the people I'm genuinely watching but how their voices paint the air in front of me. Various hues paint the sky as people discuss the news of their lives, the information of the Games if the time of year was right, or just the general happenings around town. I always believed that knowledge was power, and something sitting in the Square, where people believe that their secrets are safely buried in the masses of voices, is the best place to get that.

However, that's not why I'm out here today. Today I'm enjoying how the colors paint that air. These colors become almost imperceptible once I've gotten to know someone, mostly because I've gotten so used to them that I've subconsciously stopped paying attention to them. The masses, though, they're always fresh. And it can be a comfort to sit back and relax while I watch the abundance of colors swirl. Music never fades

My long fingers set the now empty cup on the table and a few bills to cover the cost and head back to my place. Well, it's not my place; it's Dad's and Saffron's. My long legs carry my full, hourglass figure across the SquareSquare. My shoulder-length coily hair bounces with long strides, softly framing my round face. My wide, flat nose sits softly in the middle of her face, now beaming brightly in the midday sun. I can't help but feel confident about myself because I know that she looks damn good. I even have the long neck to carry her head high.

I walk through the front door and smell the chili slow cooking in the kitchen. After putting everything together this morning, I love seeing the things I set in motion come together, and I have never been one to shy away from waiting for the perfect moment. I walk towards the kitchen and see our family pictures on the wall. Dad and Saffron are looking at each other with evident love and devotion for each other. As much as I love teasing them about it, it's nice that they still care about each other. Dad loves us a bit more, but he'll never admit that to anyone. I'll always be grateful for Dad taking me in; having grown up in the Home himself, he knows what it's like to not have anything. But he helped create our own little community, and I love that for him.

Mason's picture is following, and I can't help but feel a twinge of pity for the guy. We never got to be around him growing up, and even when I tried to sneak into his room, Dad or Kieran would always catch me. Stealth was never a strong suit of mine. As he got older, he started coming out more, and it's become clear why we were never allowed around him. Besides the constant sniffling, something is clearly not right with him. He seems off in his world, laughing at something we don't see or finding humor in situations that don't call for them. Mason is still around the house somewhere. He's like a ghost, always present yet never truly perceptible. That's the most frustrating part for me, having something so close yet still hard to reach.

I see Kieran's picture standing alongside his family, beaming at the camera next. I wish he would look at me like that, but the way he came into the family, I don't think he'll ever see me as a little sister. Granted, I'm also only 23, about to be 24, and he's already in his 30's. We'll always be at two very different life stages, and sometimes I can't help but wonder if we'll ever be on the same field to see eye to eye. It's disappointing, but there's no point in fighting the reality of the situation. I see Quinn's next and can't help but chuckle. They've always acted like they were the only ones around, but I can also excuse that because I still remember my teen years; hopefully, it will be a phase that they grow out of, but it's nice that we're close in age.

The smell wafting through the hall brings me back to this moment, though, and I return to the kitchen. I see the chili slowly cooking over the slow heat and start to work on the rest of lunch. As I got older, I noticed that cooking helps balance me, allowing me to express my creativity in a way that is not as frantic as the colors can get at times. It has gotten better as I've grown older, but it can still be distracting if I let myself get lost in them. Though, as I throw on my favorite song, the warm sunrise pink of the music player instantly washes everything else out.

As I continue cooking, various soft metallic highlights pop up as the kitchen makes its own sounds, and I can already smell the garlic bread warming up, along with the freshness of the summer salad. I can't help but feel content as I set up the table and know I'm ok with where I'm at in life, lucky that we've been spared the trauma of the Games. We have little familial drama moments, but even in the House, we had our own squabbles. I start moving everything to the table as I let the colors fade and dissipate around me, choosing to focus on the moment in front of me. Taking one last look at the table, I feel a sense of peace and pride in our family, and I call those at home to the table.