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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 16148 | 2023-03-22 02:42:50 | 154.89 | 100% |
| 8042 | 2019-04-04 22:53:37 | 136.47 | 99% |
| 5915 | 2019-01-29 21:07:44 | 113.61 | 97% |
| 2950 | 2018-08-14 22:07:59 | 111.91 | 97% |