i think i saw you in my sleep, darling. [lawofthehartblitz]

I don't know if the smog here is fake or not but it feels real, curls up by my ankles and evaporates as I move, like a chilly autumn morning. I don't blame it, for moving at my presence. It sneaks up, clings to me like I'm a statue, tastes who I am and runs away. Huh, figures.

Nobody here has a cigarette and my tongue itches. They're handing out champagne so I drown the feeling, let the sour liquid tickle the back of my throat - I don't even flinch. I told the mayor I wouldn't get drunk but it's the last night and they're celebrating us, me, I'm the guest of honour here. I'll drink to that.

Cast aside my third empty glass on some grass somewhere, even the ground here is prettier. Lush and soft and it smells good, I think I'm a little tipsy. God, how embarrassing. Tipsy on three champagnes. Best District Five could come up with was an alcoholic thirteen-year-old, yikes. Here's to our glory and our district!

Through a looking glass, I throw the fourth down and see a boy I can't name standing across the way. Capitolites and guests flit between us and he's so far away, just like my memory of him - and yet I've never seen him before. Huh.

Pushing myself off from the nearest table I trace a path toward the boy, never taking my eyes off of his face. Images flit through my mind, hazy and hollow, until I reach his quiet demeanor and stand still beside him, questionable gaze studying his every feature.

"I know you" I start, grabbing a glass of pink glitter and trouble. 

"I think I saw you in a dream."

Whimsically light, my brain finds faux memories - I fix against one, flooding my mind with it.

"We were standing in a graveyard - there were so many rows. So many ghosts. I was alone, and then I wasn't. And I wanted to destroy it all but there you were, all the way to my right, all the way at the end of the row. Just sitting there."

He's shuffling a pack of cards, he doesn't care what I'm saying but I talk anyway. My finger reaches out to touch one, pausing his movements - I steal it, flit it around my fingers, Queen of Clubs - hit me over the head, I'm a mess.

"So I walked and walked and walked but you never got any closer."

And yet here he is. Here I am. Here we are.

In a dream.