At the golden path in miniature, Felix pulled out what looked like a custom Ouija board. All the letters of the alphabet and the yes and no were present, but on the sides were: please find, please tell, I’m sorry, I need. Ayanna picked it up and felt it. Smooth. Close up, there were gold lines in it. The wood was lighter than it looked. She was disappointed that it felt so ordinary in her hands. No electric shock, no frisson of recognition, or even a hint of the thrill she used to feel seeing the path.

“This is made from one of the trees over there, isn’t it?” Ayanna felt a little sick imagining someone bringing an axe through, destroying some of the natural beauty. Then, she considered whether that was hypocritical. Ayanna had seen adults return with bags of ferns, roots dangling with golden seeds and metallic bugs.

“There’s a big trade in wood, seeds, ferns from the path. Rich people collect, and I mean, you’ve taken acre. The high-end versions of it can only be produced by using the seeds in the base of the ferns there. Although most is synthetic now. But I feel you, it still feels off.” Felix was putting down what could only be described as offerings. A wooden bowl filled with pristine fruit, incense that loudly smelled of tea, a bottle of wine, and a bouquet of irises.

“They like presents,” Felix said. “You get much higher rates of responses, though, if you have a sense of what the person you’re trying to contact likes. Gin, cigarettes, luxury perfume of a certain scent, their favorite clothes if you have them. It helps. Most of the time they’ll eat and leave and ask for a small favor, but the right gift can make them tell you secrets.”

As Ayanna watched, she wondered if there was anyone who Felix was missing and hoping would move the board’s planchette. Ayanna wanted to hear him talk about all the people he had ever loved, all the pets, the places he’d been to that had changed him or given him a sense of who he was. What if he was doing all this just to talk to the soul of a beloved dog? Would that be alienating or endearing? Was it possible to have a real relationship—platonic or romantic—filled with mutual understanding and trust if the other person hadn’t suffered as much as you? Ayanna took a breath. The way her thoughts were starting to feel fixative gave her a feeling she had described to her therapist once as “thoughts over easy.” He hadn’t really gotten what she meant, but it was the only language that felt right to her.