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I was bored and restless. All we were doing was sitting in the cold. I had talked myself hoarse and had tried to sleep, and now I wanted to get up and walk around some until I didn’t feel like I had a pile of critters crawling all up and down my legs.
I looked down at my dirty stockings, and something about that really annoyed me. It was rude to take someone’s boots. Boots are personal things and I liked mine where they were, on my feet. Now they were gone. They didn’t think I would need them anymore on account of the fact that they intended to kill me. Still, I felt they could have at least waited. I don’t know how long it takes a fella’s foot to swell up once his blood stops moving, but it’s not right away, especially in the winter, and I thought it rude for them not to wait. Beside
