Fringe Fiction Unlimited discussion

They say home is where the heart is, and I’m here. I’m home.
I walk up the narrow path towards the front step. The sun shining behind the house makes it look murkier and taller than it is. It is a big house, bigger than necessary, but I love it.
I pull the front door key out of my handbag and open the door. Silence greets me. The house is so empty. There is no one waiting for me. I’m unused to such quiet houses. Having a dog helps, but my dog Sammy hasn’t moved in yet. There’s been too much going on with the move. I want to unpack first before letting him in to wreck everything in his way. Sammy’s not that big or heavy, but he’s boisterous. He loves life.
I leave my keys on the hall table. It was one of the first items I unpacked. One needs somewhere to leave their keys, phone, handbag – all the valuables, basically. I know they say it’s not good to keep them by the door, but how else am I supposed to gather all my bits and pieces quickly if I need to leave in a hurry?
I throw my coat on the pile of boxes beneath the stairs. There will be a coatrack there one day, but that day hasn’t come yet.
I flick the heating on before entering the galley kitchen to make a cup of tea. It’s cold inside. It happens with old houses, and the house is old. I like old things. Not old men, mind. Just things.
I fell in love with the house at first sight. It’s a period property like I wanted, made of grey stone, and comprises three storeys although the top floor is only an attic where I can’t stand straight. It’s a bit creepy up there too, but it will do for storage. The property was above budget, but what do you do when you fall in love? You go for it with all you’ve got, even if it means punching above your weight.