It did not matter to her that she had seen Felix feed them at the park. Or that other people had studied them. Nothing rational mattered. Anything she could use as an argument against herself, Ayanna’s brain latched on to.

Ayanna put her sister’s things in her backpack, went back and forth with herself about taking her phone with her, ignored the mess on her floor and the note cards that again had been slid beneath the heavy door—stop making me wait; kill yourself, you spiteful bitch; I’m sorry, I love you, let’s be together—and put on her favorite coat as the one courtesy to herself. If this was the last hour of her life, she would be in one of the few things she unabashedly loved.

The city was still alive with people. Girls dressed sexy and wearing fake eyelashes, a couple making out in front of the library, the shorter boy on the higher step so he could get a sense of what it was like to be the taller lover, a group of visibly drunk friends trying to harmonize “Kiss from a Rose,” and some people in costumes even though Halloween was finally a Saturday this year. But zombies and cowboys and people dressed as bananas were out among the usual black The North Face jackets and brown Ugg boots.

In the park that held the woods, a cluster of spirits was at the gate. The brightest pink Ayanna had ever seen. They were speaking to one another about the last things they could remember eating. Almost everything was a terrible meal in a hospital room, but one braggart who had, it sounded like, died by being hit by an errant driver had had an incredible four-course meal: duck with miso soy and greens, a mung-bean-and-kimchi fritter with a razor clam on top of yuzu custard, and an amuse-bouche he was struggling to remember. The spirits around him were torn between wanting to hang on to every word he said and wishing they could find a way to make him die a second time.

“Why are you all here?” Ayanna asked.

The moon is full. Je m’ennuyais. A boy will sometimes give us cake here. I saw a crowd. Ich bin einsam. I was once a tree in this very park and now I’m this. A sound like static heard from down a hallway. A voice like an owl hooting but the words sounded like no language. I love hearing him talk about his last meal. Why not?

None found it remarkable or especially interesting that Ayanna could see them.