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 |
---|---|---|---|
550 | 2019-12-19 16:55:25 | 73.06 | 96% |
536 | 2019-12-19 16:33:55 | 76.00 | 96% |