Looking over he realizes it’s a woman. Her hair is dyed black; her hair is wet like she just got out of the shower and hid her ears. The thick tree trunks and spidery branches are plated with jagged gray bark. Planting his feet on the thin light carpet, he stares around at the thin metal bookshelves which are scattered about and darts toward the left and surreptitiously travels up four tile stairs gazing over at the meticulously stacked books and varnished wooden bookshelves and stops in place to turn off his CD player. Her eyes were emerald green in hue and her plump lips were coated in an almost metallic lipstick of lavender pink. She hardly talked and his curiosity seems to be far greater than his nervousness at this time. Denton is a rather poor town and there isn’t much help for the homeless.
