They are dusty, brittle clothes in a dusty, creaky trunk, discovered only because the children were both curious and disobedient. They are gathered up and regarded, critiqued, assessed and graded, and the favored among them are slipped over heads and pulled onto legs, the children disappearing into their archaic embrace.
This is all the opportunity the ghosts need: they slip into the bodies of the children wearing their clothes, delighting in the feeling of youth, reveling in the solidity, listening to the blood rushing merrily past their borrowed eardrums before, inevitably, the children return them to their dusty oblivion.
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