It's strange, Katniss thinks as she does so after much hesitation, curling in on herself. Strange that last year, it was Gale on her mother's table like this and she was the one watching, waiting desperately to see if the snow would have any effect. There are too many parallels like this, moments in time that keep repeating like an echo, reminding her of exactly what is missing in the world now. What she's somehow lost along the way. Her cheek brushes the surface of the blanket as she clutches the shirt to her front.