The Quiet Knock

For every question Marianne asked to build conversation, Peeta's answers were always unorthodox, not the mundane type. They talked more and more and what was supposed to be a short walk back home became a lengthy escort of each other due to the rising flow of interest in the conversation. Eventually, they reached their respective domains. The houses staring at each of them like different pathways but still being a minutes walk to one another's. "Thank you for the escort. I suppose it wasn't as tedious walking with you from the market". She said. All he did in response was smile with a "hmm". They each went to their respective homes

There was a rain that night, with thunderous claps. Everyone was either in their beds under layers of sheets for warmth or by a fire using their palms to collect heat. For Peeta, it was the type of weather he liked. The beating of rain droplets on to the roofs and floors with cold air arising as a by-product.

       Morning reached soon thereafter. It was the weekend, a time when everyone was actually idle. The family was having breakfast when someone knocked quietly on their door. They never got visitors and no one ever knocked on that door literally. Mikael stood up to heed the call of the knock. He opened the door. Standing in front of him was his child neighbor, Marianne. "Good day dear sir, I'm sorry to interrupt your breakfast". She could tell because of the time of day and due to the fact that his mouth was stuffed, presumably filled with food due to his dull unclear response to her greeting. "Good afternoon young lady and who are you looking for?" He mumbled. "I'm looking for Peeta. I made acquaintances with him two days ago. Is he home?". Peeta had a stare of disbelief from the kitchen window. He never expected her to walk up to his front door after seeing her in unusual fashions just twice. She dressed with a black pinafore gown with a dark robe, the weather was still low in temperature. After effects of the previous rainfall. No one wanted pneumonia or certain cold related ailments. Everyone was in proper dressing to accommodate the weather. Mikael called for Peeta. "I'm coming father!" He said still swallowing the food in his mouth. "Someone's here to see you." Mikael told Peeta with a sheepish look. "Oh forgive my manners. Do come on in dear" Mikael told Marianne. She declined politely insisting Peeta finished his food and met up with her outside. At this point, Father went back to his table to finish up his soup which was made to suit the cold weather, heating his insides. "You came to see me, why?". He said. "I think I'd like to know you better. Perhaps friends?." She had presumed Peter as a friend already after two occasions with him. One awkwardly brief, the latter a bit convenient. "You came all this way from your home to state the fact that you want to be friends with me, well of course we can be friends" Peeta replied. The look on her face was an excited one she was intrigued by him as much as he was by her.

       At this time it seemed like she had no problems in her life. As though everything was laid down for her. The ocean was blue to her and the sun yellow. Marianne always had everything she wanted. Her father was a merchant and her mother a housewife. She invited him for a walk in the evening shortly before leaving his home porch. Being the boy who actually liked traipsing, he accepted whole heartedly. Like the universe admired their building bond, the sun came out later that day at its brightest increasing the temperature of the weather by a tad. A fine atmosphere for walks it be. He joined up with her at a now-becoming rendezvous point, the market square. He took to his own liberty of bringing a book along written by a well known and in fact his favorite philosopher; Petrova Damien. Damien was a bit like Peeta, always asking questions people would not dare to. Finding faults in beliefs of religion and the wheel of power. In all, he was a contradicting man.

"Do you read books?" a question to Marianne. She nodded profoundly. He asked again "What do you think about books?". "Writers of this age always feel as though there's no more hope left in the world." She said."Something always convinces them that most things aren't what they seem. I suppose that's why they're deemed mad by most; wouldn't you say Peter?" smiling at him. He was adamant on convincing her about the good of books but she wouldn't have it. Her mind was set on her previous point of view and nothing he seemed to say would change her mind. The squabble went on and on and on until they passed by the farming grounds. It was a walk and a long one at that. Mariannes legs couldn't keep up much longer, they started to feel wobbly and jaded. She wasn't used to this kind of gallivanting.