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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 60618 | 2020-08-17 10:07:38 | 147.51 | 98% |
| 56589 | 2020-07-24 08:27:39 | 118.97 | 97% |
| 51944 | 2020-06-30 07:06:33 | 90.45 | 97% |
| 33165 | 2020-03-23 11:22:49 | 131.85 | 98% |
| 27678 | 2020-01-19 01:30:20 | 127.10 | 99% |
| 26176 | 2020-01-01 08:44:38 | 153.44 | 100% |
| 24634 | 2019-12-21 09:46:04 | 119.73 | 97% |