There were no windows and the thick stone walls of the cottage would protect us from any stray bullets. I felt useless but knew it was best to leave it to the professionals. I said as much to Angela and she gave me a weak smile."You are right, my Martin, and it is brave of you to admit it."I didn't feel very brave at that moment, just very useless.The odd thing about tension is that it can't last. The human brain can only take so much, and then it begins to shut down. It's absolutely impossible to stay scared witless and with every nerve stretched taut and humming with dread for an extended period. After about an hour of squatting there in the darkness with my arms around Angela, I began to yawn. The old soldiers obviously knew a trick or two because every so often they would exchange their positions. Fresh eyes always surveyed the scene outside. I guess it kept them from staring for too long at the darkness and starting to imagine things. What really struck me was that they seemed. Wilson's bedroom, and see if she could find something prettier to dress in until she could change back. Dennis ran home, wondering if Mr. Wilson really turned into Margaret, feeling sorry for him if he really did, since he wouldn't wish turning into Margaret on his worst enemy, much less his best friend Mr. Wilson. Dennis brightened up a little though, thinking that now Mr. Wilson was his age, maybe they could play together and he wouldn't be such a grouch. Running through his back yard, he stepped into a large mud puddle that he'd forgot making with Joey the day before. Absently, he looked down, noticing he was soaked with mud, but not caring since that was rather common for him. As he walked into the door, Dennis stopped, seeing his Mom glaring down at him, "Where do you think you're going all covered in mud?" she asked him patiently. Dennis looked down again, self consciously, then clenched the marble tighter in his hand as he looked back at his Mom. "I'm sorry" he said, not.
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