Addendum.

When it dies, we all become little bloodhounds. Sniffing around old haunts, clutching old clothes, breathing through them. Trying to get one more wiff of something gone forever. We drag that corpse around with us, just so we can smell it rot.

You are here.

The first instinct is to seek out a landmark. Something familiar that can help you get your bearings. Like the strip mall bowling alley sign, or the birthmark on her inner thigh.
Now you know where you are.
You realize you've been here before. And will slowly remember why you left. You begin to look a little to the left of the people talking to you, trying to see what's past them. You're already on your way again.
You are here to leave.