I remember standing there to receive my tribute token; I was outside of a huge dull gray building. I had thought that I would receive a necklace or something like that, because I had asked for my father to present the token to me. I had chosen my father to give this to me because he had taught me everything I know, from how to farm that boring brown field that seemed to go off the side of the world to teacher me how to have a catch outside of our house, which seemed more like a shack. Even though we didn’t have a lot he works out there every day in that field that smells like three week old trash. If I didn’t have him I wouldn’t know what I would do or where I would be, for this I will dedicated my effort in this year’s hunger games to his hard work and dedication.

I saw him walk around a large tree which seemed to be an oak; he walked as if he didn’t want to be here. I could understand his fear; he would be seeing his son for probably the last time in person before I meet my fate in the hunger games. He opened his sweaty palm and I saw the glimmering token. It was a small tractor I had had since I was a young boy; it will remind me off my agricultural town in District 11. The tractor had chipped yellow and green paint with a half broken wheel from when I dropped it once. My father had saved up a week’s worth of pay to buy me this and this is one of the best things he ever gave me. When the handoff of the token happened my father and I looked at each other and cried, all I thought was that this might be the last time we are together.