After a moment she turned her face and her cheek lay against his.

The face lay against the floor and he could not see the face.

Half chewed, the runner's face lay on the gravel beside his body.

His face lay against the earth as he breathed in shallow gasps.

Her face lay upon his chest, above his pounding heart.

Her face lay like an image in the moonlight, the eyes wide open, rigid.

His white face lay against the log and barely above water.

On his right lay a sleeping white woman who should have been beautiful, her face almost perfect but a little too thin.

With the constrained light behind him, his face lay in shadows.

All this while, Barry's face lay close on the pillow.