The sky was a nice array of soft pinks and indigos. I took one last look at my house, the one I had lived at for 15 years, all the memories lived in that house, though there was new wallpaper, covering the drawings drawn by the three year old me, and the carpeting had been redone, covering the stains our carpet had gathered over the years, that house still seemed like home. But living at home was not option, not at the moment.  My Aunt had said, I knew that it wasn't an option at the moment and wouldn't be no matter how long I waited, I couldn't go home. I had to make the best of my new home. Because houses, my house contains all sorts of memories, good and bad.

Please do not plagarize, all similarities to other stories, books, or movies or coincidental.