Daily Prompt: Home Sweet Home

Prompt from here.
A short and random thing just because.

When I was little, my mother told me to memorise our home address.
Not exactly P. Sherman 42, Wallaby Way, but it was quite an easy one even for a scatterbrain like me.
So when the kind policeman found me on the edge of the woods, he knew where to sent me back to.
Because that address was where I’m supposed to be.
So that address was home.
That house was home.

Later I read this line on a neighbour’s fridge magnet:
“A house is not a home.”
When I asked my mother about it, she giggled and tousled my hair, telling me that I’d understand when I got older.
A scowl decorated my face as I tried to comb my hair with my fingers.

A few years later, as predicted, I got older.
I forgot all about that phrase.
That was until the wretched man first walked into the house I used to call home.


Weekly Writing Challenge: DNA Analysis

Prompt from here.

‘Good morning.’

She looked up just in time that familiar face showed up in the office after what seemed like ages. An obligatory smile grew on her face as she nodded along with the rest of the team members, low muttering of sleepy ‘good morning’s creeping in the air. A good way to start the day.
It’s why she liked it when someone greets the whole team in the morning.
That was what she thought.

He sat down across her and set down his belongings – the usual brown postman bag and the tumbler filled with… Arabica blend? Whatever it was, she was grateful for it. The smell of good coffee had never disappointed anyone.
It’s the only reason she liked having the owner of the good old coffee around.
That was what she thought.

Progression of work was very slow when he wasn’t around. He was the synapse of everyone else, connecting every neuron of ideas and mishaps. Nobody else could do it naturally the way he does it. The office lightens up when he was around. When people are happy, they work faster.
It’s why she liked it whenever he visited.
That was what she thought.

Evening. The night fell, and stars blinked. Too poetic for her liking, but that’s how people described it. Almost-empty office. Nothing but the sound of mouses clicking and keyboards tapping. She sighed as he bid the others goodbye. It will be another month before he would make her job easier.
It’s why her heart sank when the door closed after him.
That was what she thought.

Those little things couldn’t matter.
They couldn’t change her.
They couldn’t affect her.
They couldn’t shape her.
That was what she thought.