There it was again: the piercing feeling of someone creeping into her heart again, stealthily, through the backdoor, like ivy slowly growing over the wall. For a moment she felt as if she flew, the other as if she was falling. She had stopped expecting, indeed. But the gut-tearing excitement she felt was beyond her power. She felt its grip, resisted it but that only made her feel it even more intensely. She was trapped, watching the white wall being conquered by ivy, covered in ivy, consumed by ivy that spread and spread and spread.
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