Montag stood on the warm ground covered in ash, biting his lip, he felt a lump in his throat as if all the emotions were trying to burst out in a loud cry. He held back. But not strong enough, as a tear fell down his left cheek as he finally grasped the fact that he was alone. Physically he wasn’t alone but to him emotionally felt alone. Clarisse, Mildred, Faber, gone. Although deep down, he knew that this was for the better. Sounds of wood crackling and broken TV’s sizzling and buzzing whispering in his ears and the smoke burning his eyes; Montag began to open his mouth to try and speak. Granger spoke “I don’t know where to begin, but we must begin somewhere.” As he began making a pile of burned up pieces of wood and brick, the rest followed.
