Vacant Feeling

What if I were to tell you that the family next door was going to move out at the end of the month? A job offer in Japan had uprooted the entire family: two kids, a dog, all gone. And the furniture and anything else in the house that couldn't fit in a few suitcases: sold, or taken by friends and family. You see boxes outside and people stopping by more frequently than usual. And without realizing it the month had gone by, the family had boarded a plane a few days ago and was somewhere on the other side of the earth--leaving a doormat to welcome no one and a lock to protect nothing inside.
Weeks passed, and months went by as leaves piled high up against the walls of the house. From the window next to your bed you kept track of the season's change by watching it wear on the neglected house. You grew accustomed to falling asleep with your last image being fed by a glance of the place. Each night you were abandoned with your dreams by the sad sight.
But what if one night, as you lay your head down to your pillow, like you usually do, to see the house and the day's decay on it, your mind is taken far from the same empty feeling. You sit up from your pillow, still staring at the house. At the window. The one at the top of the house. The attic. What was always dark, like the rest of the house, is now glowing a dim orange from a lamp, or a candle.
What if the house outside your window wasn't vacant, and what if "you" were really me, and this was the picture I took just took so that someone would believe me?

*I know I've been adding lots of notices after posts but I didn't make this up. Scouts honor. **I was a scout for a few weeks, a long time ago.
**That was the last notice. Or this was.