Esteban stood at the front of the room, staring at the page. Then he lifted his head and looked at us. We cheered again, even louder this time. I don't know if any of us really understood his dad's poem. But for a long time after he'd finished reading, I thought about that army of ants, how they were coming together. Like us.
Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
---|---|---|---|
1917 | 2020-09-25 09:27:04 | 88.00 | 98% |
1898 | 2020-09-20 17:26:34 | 88.50 | 98% |
1263 | 2020-08-25 06:41:50 | 89.25 | 98% |