Manner Of Walking Crossword Clue Novels & Stories

He walked ahead of Pearl, his long strides eating up the distance. Pearl hurried to keep up, her curly brown hair bouncing with each step. "Wait," she called out, but Eden didn't stop. He kept walking, his broad back a formidable wall of indifference. "You don't expect me to walk slow, this is how I walk, so you have to keep up," he said, not bothering to turn around.

This model has decent qualifications but walks poorly, while that one has a good temperament but lacks presence. Suddenly, the whole venue quieted down. Even the judges, who had pretended to be interested, straightened their backs. The sound of high heels colliding with small stones echoed crisply. Each step was resolute and powerful, with the rhythm and volume of the footsteps perfectly blending with the sound of the waves and the background music.

There's nothing I wanted more than to leave here. The clicking sound of heels carried through the hall, rudely interrupting Landon who was in the middle of a sentence. Intrigued, my neck twisted in the direction of the sound before I could stop myself. A woman, old enough to be Landon's grandmother, emerged from the dimly lit hallway, in a fitted red gown that clung onto her body like a second skin. She walked with elegance and precision, her energy filling the room with unspoken tension. Her ability to walk in such high heels at her age is something worth commending.

starting to walk away. . . .

Nobody said anything. He kept walking. Twenty meters. Twenty-five. His leg was trembling now, not the deep tremor of the parallel bars but a lighter shaking, the muscle adjusting to a demand it hadn't been asked to meet. Thirty meters. He stopped and stood there, one hand on the crutch, the other at his side, breathing hard, the space around him quiet except for the sound of his breath. The far wall was still ten meters away. He didn't try for it. He turned around. Walking back was harder because the leg was tired, each foot placed deliberately, the way he placed each word when he was tired, carefully, because tired legs and tired words both make mistakes. He reached the entrance and stood t

There was no car. Aria walked out of the building with a handbag and the clothes on her back. The doorman, the one who’d always called her Mrs. Cross and held the door with both hands, looked at the floor when she passed. The lobby was marble and gold and brutally bright, and she crossed it feeling like a ghost walking through her own funeral.

I got up and made sure to ruffle my clothes, and with heavy yet normal, average person's footsteps, I walked to the entrance. I walked to the weapons shed that is straight across the yard from the entrance. I made sure to have heavy footsteps and rustle my clothing. Once I got to the shed, I walked to the right to the shower house. I kept the heavy footsteps but did not ruffle my clothes. Once I got to the shower house, I turned and walked to the opposite wall across from the shower house and made some lighter footsteps, but still audible if you paid attention to my movements. On this path, I walked right beside Summers.