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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 17874 | 2020-09-26 22:13:44 | 85.00 | 96% |
| 16106 | 2020-08-23 00:14:43 | 84.99 | 98% |
| 12632 | 2020-05-28 00:22:50 | 98.34 | 98% |
| 11226 | 2020-03-31 21:55:44 | 85.50 | 98% |
| 7437 | 2020-02-03 23:40:37 | 82.80 | 98% |
| 2765 | 2019-11-21 01:39:52 | 71.28 | 98% |
| 2185 | 2019-11-10 14:14:47 | 74.79 | 98% |