various stores and restaurants. Years previously, despite controversies relating to a lack of parking and disruption of businesses, the Boulder City Council passed a resolution to establish the Downtown Boulder Mall. The section of Pearl Street between 11th and 15th streets was closed to traffic and it became known as the Pearl Street Mall. Residents soon got used to driving a one-way loop around downtown in order to visit the businesses.
After that, long-standing buildings had been restored, and national and local historic designations made sure that the historic character of downtown Boulder would be maintained. Pearl Street had become the town’s cultural heart and soul.
She enjoyed riding her bike down the Boulder Creek Path, which was black topped like the city streets. She enjoyed the smooth ride, the sound of the water rushing over the rocks, the shadows from the leaf-laden trees, and the exhilaration that came from the morning breeze on her face.
After applying a light touch of makeup and darkening her eyelashes with black mascara, she went into the garage to get her bike. She lifted her helmet from the handlebars, set it on her head, her long blond hair hanging below it. She fastened the strap under her chin and slipped on her riding gloves.
Pushing her bike out of the garage, she ran the door down. She mounted her bike and rode away from her house, soon arriving at the Boulder Creek Path. She enjoyed all the curves and turns the path made as it followed the topography of the creek. Before she exited the path to ride the two blocks on a main street, there was an area with a stone bench and a water fountain.
Every day during the summer months and into the fall, it was occupied by a group of homeless men. Everyone knew they were perfectly harmless, so she always said ‘Good morning’, giving them a smile and a wave as she dismounted her bike to cross the street at the traffic light. They were used to this morning ritual and several of them returned the greeting to her.
On this particular morning, as she alighted from her bike and looked over at the men, she saw a new addition to their group. He was tall with shaggy hair and a beard. And he was staring at her.
Did he know her?
She hesitated for a moment, gazing back, her curiosity aroused. His glance never wavered.
As their eyes met, she felt a shock run through her and it felt as though her heart turned over in her breast.
Her stomach developed a sudden case of butterflies. She had no idea how long they stared at each other. It was a conscious effort to pull her eyes away from the tall man and head for the cross walk.
She resisted a strong urge to turn around and look at the man again. Is he watching me? She waited for the traffic light to give her the ‘walk’ signal. Instead of getting back on her bike as she usually did and riding the two blocks to the store, she slowly pushed it along the sidewalk, strangely reluctant to leave the path with its group of homeless men.
What’s my problem? Amanda wondered. What was it about the homeless man that had attracted her? With his shaggy hair and scruffy beard, it had been hard to tell what he really looked like. But she knew what had caught her attention. His eyes. She hadn’t been able to break from the stare of those steel-gray eyes. And those thick black fringes of eyelashes.
Over the years, Amanda had seen many homeless men in Boulder, but not one individual had ever caught her attention. Until now. She couldn’t forget those eyes. Piercing, as though they could read her very thoughts. Not dull and lifeless like most of the homeless men she encountered on her daily rides.
Many of them walked or stood with slumped shoulders, as though living was too heavy a burden to carry. But not this one. He stood straight and tall, and in spite of his ragged clothes, he had an air of confidence about him.
Was he newly homeless? How long would it take before he blended in with the rest of them? How long
After that, long-standing buildings had been restored, and national and local historic designations made sure that the historic character of downtown Boulder would be maintained. Pearl Street had become the town’s cultural heart and soul.
She enjoyed riding her bike down the Boulder Creek Path, which was black topped like the city streets. She enjoyed the smooth ride, the sound of the water rushing over the rocks, the shadows from the leaf-laden trees, and the exhilaration that came from the morning breeze on her face.
After applying a light touch of makeup and darkening her eyelashes with black mascara, she went into the garage to get her bike. She lifted her helmet from the handlebars, set it on her head, her long blond hair hanging below it. She fastened the strap under her chin and slipped on her riding gloves.
Pushing her bike out of the garage, she ran the door down. She mounted her bike and rode away from her house, soon arriving at the Boulder Creek Path. She enjoyed all the curves and turns the path made as it followed the topography of the creek. Before she exited the path to ride the two blocks on a main street, there was an area with a stone bench and a water fountain.
Every day during the summer months and into the fall, it was occupied by a group of homeless men. Everyone knew they were perfectly harmless, so she always said ‘Good morning’, giving them a smile and a wave as she dismounted her bike to cross the street at the traffic light. They were used to this morning ritual and several of them returned the greeting to her.
On this particular morning, as she alighted from her bike and looked over at the men, she saw a new addition to their group. He was tall with shaggy hair and a beard. And he was staring at her.
Did he know her?
She hesitated for a moment, gazing back, her curiosity aroused. His glance never wavered.
As their eyes met, she felt a shock run through her and it felt as though her heart turned over in her breast.
Her stomach developed a sudden case of butterflies. She had no idea how long they stared at each other. It was a conscious effort to pull her eyes away from the tall man and head for the cross walk.
She resisted a strong urge to turn around and look at the man again. Is he watching me? She waited for the traffic light to give her the ‘walk’ signal. Instead of getting back on her bike as she usually did and riding the two blocks to the store, she slowly pushed it along the sidewalk, strangely reluctant to leave the path with its group of homeless men.
What’s my problem? Amanda wondered. What was it about the homeless man that had attracted her? With his shaggy hair and scruffy beard, it had been hard to tell what he really looked like. But she knew what had caught her attention. His eyes. She hadn’t been able to break from the stare of those steel-gray eyes. And those thick black fringes of eyelashes.
Over the years, Amanda had seen many homeless men in Boulder, but not one individual had ever caught her attention. Until now. She couldn’t forget those eyes. Piercing, as though they could read her very thoughts. Not dull and lifeless like most of the homeless men she encountered on her daily rides.
Many of them walked or stood with slumped shoulders, as though living was too heavy a burden to carry. But not this one. He stood straight and tall, and in spite of his ragged clothes, he had an air of confidence about him.
Was he newly homeless? How long would it take before he blended in with the rest of them? How long
Similar Books
Fortunes & Failures - 03
T. W. Brown
The Temple of Indra’s Jewel:
Rachael Stapleton
Communion Town
Sam Thompson
Flesh Cartel, #8: Loyalties
Rachel Haimowitz, Heidi Belleau
Star Wars: Scoundrels
Timothy Zahn
The Jade Boy
Cate Cain
The Truant Officer
Derek Ciccone
And Then There Were None
Agatha Christie
The Mortal Bone
Marjorie M. Liu
