Footsteps approaching. She sees a pair of brown hiking boots, the cuffs of denim jeans. She hears more shouting, but the words are unintelligible, considering the steam shovel that had just begun work inside her brain.
Then, footsteps crunching the snow, staggering away.
Then, silence. God her head hurt. Am I alone? she wonders.
No.
Strong hands grab her by the arms; strong arms lift her to her feet.
A moment of vertigo, then everything comes swimming back. Center Street, in front of her. Her car, roughly where she’d left it before her quick trip to the ground. A total stranger beside her, holding her up.
“Are you okay?” the owner of the strong hands asks.
The words echo in her head for a few moments before registering. She takes a deep breath, and looks. It is a man. A nice-looking young man.
A very nice-looking young man.
And, it appears, he has just saved her life.