(When I came in years later with a pack of Chesterfields in my breast pocket, Uncle Oren sneered at them and called them 'stockade cigarettes.')
We finally reached the window with the broken screen and he set the toolbox down with an audible sigh of relief. When Dave and I tried to lift it from its place on the garage floor, each of us holding one of the handles, we could barely budge it.
On Writing by Stephen King
And incase that book's too cool and intellectual, here's the same from the other book near me, which I'm also reading:
She was only gone a few moments, but Rand was uncomfortably aware of the eyes of the remaining Aes Sedai. He tried to return their gaze levelly, the way Lan had told him to, and they put their heads together, whispering. What are they saying?
The Great Hunt by Robert Jordan