God guys, it's 2:24 A.M. and I keep getting these random urges to write! When will it ever stop? Well, I don't exactly know if I want it to /: Anyway, here's another one of my random stories very early in the morning - or very late at night - however you want to put it.

He walks alone along the lonely, quiet streets of his District. Sometimes he wonders why he's even here, and then when that happens, he remembers the reason. But he still doesn't want to accept it, so he walks.

He can't go home - if it really is a home - it just doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like a home, more like an empty house that an empty man lives in. Yes, that empty man would be him. So instead of returning to the two story house that seems too big for just him, he walks around hopelessly. He's lost in his own thoughts: thoughts of the rebellion, thoughts of the Games, even thoughts of before everything changed - before the reaping of the 74th Hunger Games.

He likes those thoughts better. They hold less pain, less hurt than those of the rebellion - the war. He doesn't like to think about that, it only kills him inside.

He feels a raindrop land on his head, as if the sky was crying for him. As if it feels his pain and releases the tears that he cannot. One-by-one more drops fall. He wants to stop them, to shove them back into the clouds and never have to see them again. He wants to leave, to go far away from humanity.

But he can't. Not because he wouldn't be able to survive, no, that wouldn't be a problem for him. He can't because he just doesn't have the strength anymore. He doesn't have the heart.

He looks up just as the sky starts to pour its tears. Normally he wouldn't care if he got soaked, but tonight, he just wants to go 'home' because he wants to get away from the tears.

He finally makes it to the white brick house. The one with the curtains drawn and the uncut grass. He walks to his front door and shoves the key into the lock. He steps inside to find the dark entry way. By now it has started to thunder and lightning, as if the sky was done crying for him, and was now punishing him for what he had done.

He drops his keys and jacket on the floor, not caring about making a mess. He sits on the little white couch and stares at the window. He can hear the rain pound against the glass and the roof of his house. He can hear the booming of the thunder. He sees the flashes of light that the lightning makes through the closed curtains. It lights up the room for a second before everything goes dark again.

He sits there until the storm stops and the rain calms down. Then he gets up and opens the front door. The sun starts to peek out of the grey clouds. He stares up at the sky.

Then he sees it - a rainbow. The only thing that seems to brighten District Two.

And for once, he thinks that maybe there is hope after all.