On the sidewalk across from me, near the entrance to a barbecue joint, some people were holding an old-fashioned revival meeting. The barbecue cook, wearing a dirty white apron, his conked hair reddish and metallic in the pale sun, and a cigarette between his lips, stood in the doorway, watching them. Kids and older people paused in their errands and stood there, along with some older men and a couple of very tough-looking women who watched everything that happened on the avenue, as though they owned it, or were maybe owned by it.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2256 | 2020-05-07 06:36:28 | 101.06 | 96% |
| 1751 | 2020-05-05 12:19:12 | 110.05 | 97% |
| 138 | 2020-05-03 01:54:03 | 71.55 | 97% |