In silence, they light the lanterns, feed them into the river’s mouth, watch them disappear into beyond. Cora’s fingers tremble as she strikes the matches, her aunt’s bag seemingly never-ending. White sheets begin to bloom in the dark waters, like butterflies rising to the surface. The ghosts tear through the water, chasing after the lanterns, walking through the river like it’s deep sand. At last, there is only one lantern left. Cora holds it in both hands, looks across the river at a single ghost swaying along with the river’s pull. She wonders if Delilah can hear her from across whatever
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