Wikus sat on the burning, sun-baked soil of District 10.
The heat was burning his flesh, but he no longer cared about pain. There was so much hurt and longing inside him that physical pain had long since faded to the background. His head was in his hands, a few half-finished metal flowers lying in the dust beside him. Ever since Christopher had left, he had been making and stockpiling them for when he was finally human again, when he could finally be accepted back into society. When he could finally feel the warm touch of his beautiful wife.
He thought that the more flowers he made, the more his wife would forget about the whole thing, the more the events of the past would recede into nothing. It was like the flowers were forming a giant wall, him on one side, and everything that had happened since the Prawns arrived on the other.
Some days he had so much hope, other days he felt like Christopher had just abandoned him, or worse; forgotten about him entirely. Today was the latter.
"Youpromisedme," he whispered. Then he raised his head and screamed into the air "YOU FOCKING PROMISED ME!"
Christopher had promised him that he would return in three years.
It had been five.