A bright finger of light swept along the road, passed over them and kept going.

It was a spring clip and my fingers kept slipping off.

His fingers kept following the engraved lines like a blind person learning to read.

His fingers kept intruding, both of them together, all the way in.

He followed her order, but then his fingers kept moving, changing the configuration of the entire row.

But her fingers kept searching out the flying people's musical patterns.

I saw she couldn't quite close her fingers enough to keep it secure.

He seemed calm, but his fingers kept making mistakes at the keyboard.

It served as some protection, but her fingers kept cramping.

His fingers, mechanical in their motion, kept turning the coin over.