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Leaves. On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too.
“Preposterous. Absolutely preposterous.”, Chidori hissed, pushing the book away from her. The girl knew full well that it was unproductive to complain about the lack of intelligence that most romance novel characters had, but good god, this girl had a horrible case of megalomania.
For one thing, the patient was too self-conscious. Leaves will wither and fall, it was perfectly natural. An ivy vine had no relation to the life of some terminally ill narcissist. Why would it be decided whether or not they fall based on the life of a single human? “D