The sun beams in through the window filtered through laced curtains.

Staring up at the ceiling, the fan blades spin in hypnotic synchronicity.

The plush of the rug conforms to your body under your weight on the floor.

Wafts of supper cooking saunter from kitchen.

Moments pass as steadily as the grandfather clock tick-tocks resound through the hallway. Time makes these walls feel smaller.

 

At what point is a house no longer a home?