Sue walked around the house with a frown on her face. She was used walking down strange corridors every single day in her own home-- she, in fact, didn't even know what her own home looked like. Still, even though she couldn't form a mental picture of her house, consistently retreading her home over and over again let her navigate room to room by sheer muscle memory. Four steps forward into the door way, the square thing in the middle of the room is a table and the thing to your left is a hat rack, the hallway farthest from the table leads down to the bathroom, ecetera ecetera. The point was, she never had to worry about getting lost in her own house.
"What is this place?" she asked aloud. "The walls looks like they're a slightly different color, and the proportions of everything is all wrong... I didn't walk into someone else's home again, did I?"
She stopped, pattering a feet against the floor while pursing her lips to the left of her snout.
"... Yep. This doesn't smell like my home, the way my voice bounces off the walls doesn't sound like my home, and the floor doesn't feel like my home. Great."