Home.

The barking of the dogs filled the house. Along, with the petty arguments of the children, and the cooking of the mother. The father's computer keys clicking. Julie was in the living room, the soft chirps of the birds outside, the squish of the stress ball she was squeezing. It all felt very peaceful, like the sounds were coming together to make a performance for her.

The knocking on the door, and the click of the door opening. Her best friends laugh. Her best friend's phone beeps every now and then from her parents. The way she flicks her hair. making a soft swish. The way her quiet, sweet voice shares the gossip. The way her hands clap in excitement from the silly drama at school.

The plates that were full of food landed with a soft thud on the table. The clanging of the forks, spoons, and knives against the plates. The laughs and voices from everyone around the table. The scooting of the chairs, the slurping of someone drinking water from their cups.

The goodnight kisses from their parents. The swishing of the blankets. The faint purring of her cat. The whimpers from the dog. The curtains sliding. The beeps of her phone are about an hour apart.

That is home.