There's a long word that Cinna feels spelled on his palm. Yakaterina Bridge.

Once a year, they would pass the bridge. That's the day that Grey died, too.

This will be his birthday, though, tomorrow. He'll be a year older, even though he doesn't know how old he is. This is, in its own way, then, his birthday party. No friends, but he has Cinna and that is what matters most.

Yakaterina Bridge. He hasn't thought about that in months. Of course, nothing in the back of the train was a celebration, not really. Tanya would try sometimes but it never took.

Cinna looks and smells so good. Grey gazes at him with obvious warmth.