Your routine starts off the same. You solemnly tie your laces, basking in the repetitive nature of molding bunny ears with your delicate hands. Except something is off. Distraction is imperative -- an integral part of a breakup. But then you remember. Your stomach drops like you are on a roller coaster and waves of nausea succeed upon you. Everything reminds you of them: a shiny red 2001 Subaru Outback skating past you on the freeway, intense eye contact pierces you in a parking lot, a salt rock lamp boastfully perching on a window display, taunting you. You hope that you could bump into them at the bookstore, crave their overwhelming presence that provided you comfort, and long to touch their smooth face, even a morsel of them… anything. Looping memories zing around your brain, nagging at you like leering cat-callers, and, like an invasive bull thistle, you are mightily rooted to the ground of an inky escape room.