Title : Optionnel

Text : Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta extend his hand. I look at him, unsure. "One more time? For the audience?" he says. His voice isn't angry. It's hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me. I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go. Chaque paragraphe sera un test.

Save test : Utilisez cette option si vous souhaitez partager ce test de dactylographie (uniquement pour les utilisateurs authentifiés).