The porch Light and the empty House

"I went back to my childhood home because I thought someone had left the porch light on. The door was unlocked, and inside everything looked almost right, except the furniture had been pushed against the walls. I kept hearing my grandfather calling from another room. I knew he was gone, but the voice sounded so ordinary that I answered without thinking. He asked me to bring him a glass of water. I searched the kitchen, opening drawers that were full of old photographs instead of utensils. By the time I found a glass, the house had become much larger. Hallways stretched where there hadn't been any, and every door led back to the same quiet living room. He called again, closer this time. I turned around, but no one was there. On the couch sat his coat, still warm. I picked it up and held it against me, suddenly crying harder than I had in years. Then someone knocked from inside the closet. I wanted to open it, but I already knew I would only find the empty house."