Word: chillness
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...second day of competition began with the 100-yd. dash and the half-mile run. With the palm trees looking like a mirage in the unseasonable 35° chill, OJ. Simpson jogged around the asphalt track repeating one thought: "Man, it's cold. The Juice may just not run in that 880.1 don't want to die down here." Simpson did run in the 100-yd. dash and with his sprinter's speed easily beat Seagren. When the 880 began, O.J., true to his word, was seated in a warm car and Seagren defeated Anderson...
...WOMAN who looked about 30 ran downstairs from a nearby apartment and over to us. Despite the early October chill, she had not bothered with a coat or sweater. She eased the girl out of Gene's arms, felt the girl's pulse and forehead. When we looked up, we saw that the two more sober men had subdued and were quieting down the drunk who was supposed to be the girl's boyfriend. I asked the woman, who was rocking the girl gently in her arms, if I could do anything to help. The girl started whining again...
...bright morning poured throught the wide open doors of the church, intruding on the thick chill that hung within the heavy stone walls. The bell signalling mass had rung a few minutes before, and campesinos were now entering for the Sunday service. Few of them actually lived in Morochata, the village served by the church. They were, instead, from the surrounding campo, the countryside, where they lived and farmed in small communities of clustered huts up in the mountains. Their full dark-skinned faces and thick skull and cheekbones showed that they were pure Quechua Indians, unlike the people...
...Whether the energy crisis is adding to the problem is less clear. "It's a little early to get actual figures," admits Mrs.Tooze, "but we know - how well we know - that it happens." And even if it does, can't a bit of good cheer against the chill blast of winter be countenanced? "The only place for a cocktail,"says Mrs. Tooze, "is after the rooster...
...very late one Friday in the frightful winter of the year 19-. Holmes was filling his pipe with the noxious tobacco he kept in a slipper upon the mantel. I sat by the gasogene, trying to ignore the chill worrying my old Jezail bullet wound. It was not a very keen period for the world's first consulting detective; like all Englishmen, he only worked a three-day week. We could get little fuel, and warmed ourselves by burning pictures of coal from newsmagazine accounts of the miners' strike. Suddenly there came peremptory knocking at the door...