Sam smiled at Vanessa. They were finally home.
"We're finally home," he said, unaware that a narrative voice had already explained the situation. He couldn't have been talking to Vanessa; she had her headphones on. Sam had been stating the exposition of the story for some time now, in a vain effort to add some profundity to a journey that had turned out to be quite hackneyed. Vanessa was growing quite tired of him.
As Sam's weary legs brought him to the threshold of the apartment building, he stopped himself. What, really, was home?
"What, really, is home?" Sam asked Vanessa. His act had even begun to grow thin with the narrator.
"What do you mean?" asked Vanessa, lifting her headphones up for a brief moment.
"I mean, we have been gone for seven months now, and this just doesn't feel right."
"You're right," said Vanessa. "That's because you live across the street."
Home, sweet home.