She leant forward, too afraid to touch the green mass, too afraid to not to. something urged her on, a voice, not to her ears, not in her head, but in her soul. A voice that made her soul ache and sob.
It wasn't slimy as she feared, but soft, wet, warm. And her soul ached even more.
It was as if her soul cried, as if she was gazing at the very rocks weeping.
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