The Train

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I haven't thought about the games since yesterday, I've been trying to avoid imagining ways I could horrifically die.
We still have two hours left until we arrive at the Capitol. And I'm kind of freaking out.
What should I train for? What talent should I show off in front of the gamemakers? How many sponsors will I need? how long could I survive?
I don't know the answers to any of these questions, my death day is approaching and there is nothing I can do to suspend it, let alone stop it. I know I'm going to end up having a panic attack if I don't stop thinking about what is in store for me.
I hold up a silver chalice in my palm, 'May the odds be ever in your favour', it says.
"Why is this engraved on here?" I ask Kara, my Capitol escort.
"Oh, that was made in district 1, apparently the Capitol want to use it as some sort of catchphrase," she replies.
"Well it's certainly not catching on yet," I say, disapprovingly.
"Yet," Kara smiles.
Kara is alright, you know, for someone who grew up in the Capitol I mean.
Her long, blonde hair is in a straight, thick plait along her back and her rosy red lipstick suggests she might be from district 1. But her black eye-liner and tall, colourful eyelashes make it obvious where she originated.
I look around the carriage at the golden chairs and maroon tables.
"Mahogony, by the way," Kara was watching me, "the wood, I mean."
"Cool," I say, even though I don't care the slightest bit about what type of wood the table on the train taking me to my grave is.
I walk back to my sleeping quarters, in a hurry to get away from Kara Trinket and her detailed descriptions of wood.
There, I find again my temporary queen size bed with duvet covers that say, 'Capitol', in big letters. Then I lay down and rest my head down on the foam pillow.

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