Staring, looking everywhere but nowhere in particular, Mrs. Phelps shuffled across the empty walk, her head down, preoccupied with the unwelcome emotions that plagued her mind. However much she tried, those feeling would not disappear, and she did not have anything to wipe away the sudden onslaught of thoughts. No radio, television, or even the ability to sleep away her troubles. There they sat, festering within her mind, like a hardy stone that refused to be washed away by the ever-flowing rise and fall of the waves upon a rocky cove. The rock would not move, no matter how much the sea pushed. Unable to handle the reoccurring feelings, Mrs. Phelps could do nothing but concentrate on the ground in front, and attempt to lose herself within the confines of her mind.

"Oh, why didn't I take the beetle? Now I'm stuck walking around. Walking! We haven't done that willingly since the Dark Ages! I just had to walk to that fireman's house. It's really a shame that Mildred has to be stuck with a maniac. Oh, I feel so sorry for her! Agh, I should have taken the beetle! I would already be home by now and listening to some lovely music, I could listen to that nice song that I always enjoyed. I could've even been laughing along and enjoying life with my family, for Pete's sake!"

She muttered to herself, in the hope that a voice within the would calm her nerves. But, with he mention of a certain name, a thought, one that surprised the lone woman, came to mind. One of her husband, and of what Mr. Montag had said, his scathing words. Words not meant directly for her, but ones that still had left a blow. Try as she might to push the thoughts back, they continued to come.

What if... if that man is right?
Why did I feel what I felt? I haven't cried in eight years, and a little poem is what broke that streak.
Oh, why did I listen to that fool and his 'poems'?!
What about Pete? His brains - are his brains being 'blown out' right now?
How could I just sit there and let Montag read that?
I have never done anything to deserve this! Why must someone come along and ruin everything!?
...

Within her daze, Mrs. Phelps stepped off of the walk in front of her house. As if drugged, she wandered to the pad that scanned her hand. With the door sliding open in front of her, she walked into the darkness contained within her house. Stopping, she uttered one final question:

"...Are we really wrong?"


Nothing but silence answered.