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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 50366 | 2020-05-07 06:36:41 | 83.73 | 97% |
| 47138 | 2020-01-03 06:59:15 | 87.83 | 97% |
| 45195 | 2019-10-26 06:49:35 | 93.59 | 98% |
| 41806 | 2019-07-04 05:48:57 | 83.98 | 97% |
| 40242 | 2019-05-18 02:45:57 | 89.93 | 98% |
| 36205 | 2019-01-27 06:52:10 | 84.19 | 98% |
| 32620 | 2018-12-25 11:21:58 | 92.05 | 98% |
| 31299 | 2018-12-21 08:47:41 | 96.37 | 98% |
| 29635 | 2018-12-16 11:00:13 | 101.60 | 99% |
| 29514 | 2018-12-16 06:03:28 | 85.28 | 98% |
| 26548 | 2018-12-07 21:07:06 | 82.34 | 97% |
| 21163 | 2018-10-07 12:45:09 | 86.07 | 97% |
| 17220 | 2018-07-26 00:21:21 | 69.07 | 96% |
| 14305 | 2018-05-31 23:50:02 | 68.16 | 97% |
| 8844 | 2018-02-18 21:26:24 | 63.63 | 96% |