Plastered against my palm was the damp, rough-edged wall when I walked along the guided path of darkness. There wasn’t the faintest hint of light, or the slightest wheeze of outside air. There was just the narrow pathway that went straight, down, toward . . . something. I felt something. A squeeze in my heart, and a sudden fist of panic that clenched in my stomach. It was different. A longing; a kind of sadness that came out from nowhere, held me. Stayed there.
I told myself to stop. Even ordered myself. But it was useless against the primal urge to move forward, just forward . . . and find that something. Curiosity, I thought, just a healthy dose of curiosity. But I knew it was much more, much greater; it was knowledge. Somehow I had a feeling of this familiarity, of such knowing, like I perfectly knew what lay ahead the path.
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