This is encouraging; he seems to be listening. "I don't have the key anymore, but--"

She spreads the journal out on her lap and turns the pages back to the beginning. Her hand hesitates above a woodblock print of a green demon cutting into a child's throat, but then she pages past it to stop on another print of a sallow-skinned, stringy-hair woman digging into a bowl of rice.

"...Papers like these. I'd find them scattered around the place, and sometimes they'd point me to where I could go next. See, this one shows how you can get past the lingered. You leave them an offering."