451 Narrative

(from the point of view of Mrs. Phelps.)

I walked out of Mildred's house, still crying. Mrs. Bowles was walking next to me, comforting me. "Terrible words... such terrible words," I whispered.  "There there," Mrs. Bowles reassured me, "Why don't you go home and turn on the 'family', that will make you feel better." I nodded as we both walked to our beetles.

I was driving at 70 miles an hour to get back home. The green blur of grass and the white blur of houses rushed past me as I drove on. I was thinking about the words Mr. Montag had said. "for the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath neither joy, nor love, nor light, " "I'm happy, aren't I?", I asked myself, "If I'm happy, then why am I crying?" I couldn't stop thinking about what Mr. Montag had said, no matter how hard I tried.

I slowed down my beetle as I approached home. I had thought about the poem Montag had read for the entire ride. When I entered the house, it seemed very quiet. I glanced at the parlor and briefly thought of turning it on, but decided not to. It seemed so quiet and peaceful without the constant clamor of the 'family'. I had given Montag's words lots of thought and now they didn't seem so frightening. Instead of turning on the parlor walls, I decided to go to sleep instead.