You clutch the offerings of herbs, oranges and woods in you hands, entering the cemetery as the light begins to fade from the sky. You make your way to your family's graves, leaving gifts at each headstone. Taking a deep sigh of relief, you turn to go. You feel your bones go cold as, behind you a voice beckons back. Turning your head in terror, you see them, the ghosts of those that had passed, picking through their gifts. One specter lifts his hand to his ears, pointing at you. Hesitantly you open your phone, pressing a few buttons before holding it out, the sound of music filling the tense air. As if on cue, the phantoms break away from their headstones, bodies moving to the beat. The specter nods his head in approval, joining the others in dance. You were really hoping to avoid this, at least for this year, but it's inevitable. You join your embarrassing ancestors in their antics.