It's an escape room with four people. We've all got roles to play. So she, the center of the universe, and us, planets orbiting around her, only have an hour to find the treasure the captain hid. This captain fella, he has this glowing blue stone, but that's not even the point. The point is we're here to win. We're here to solve this puzzle within an hour.
With five clues because it's their second night, a clue giving, sound providing, bell ringing monitor reminds us someone is watching, and I tell Kim, "Just as long as they don't release the video."
Though if they focused solely on the center of the universe, that would be great to see. But no, we're all in here.
I take the chair and watch.
She, the center of the universe, is opening every drawer, checking every lock, rambling, running, processing everything in warp speed. I told her she needed to play basketball, but she doesn't play sports, she reads.
I wonder if the captain will read with me by a tiny light in the dark on a rainy Sunday afternoon. If so, I imagine what we would read but my imagination runs away with me to that quote, "They were just regular people who caught hold to something or something caught hold to them." We would of course read her.
She, the center of the universe, is good at solving puzzles and within forty minutes she has wiped the face of a painting and opened a secret passage which makes her jump but not as high as those three skeletons. She said, "Son of a." And we all started laughing.
That chic found the glowing blue stone and I got to hug her and kiss the top of her head and say in the most escape room way, "You got me," though I assured her as I have the captain, "I'm less than great at this."
Today I am grateful for the centers of the universe, for texts, phone calls, the offer of bacon, the rain, the music, and the Tom Waits thing.
He sent this and what else is a girl supposed to do? I just don't want to ask too much.
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