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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6244 | 2020-09-26 08:42:26 | 93.74 | 98% |
| 3102 | 2020-03-29 15:34:27 | 81.90 | 97% |
| 3095 | 2020-03-29 15:05:39 | 86.02 | 97% |
| 621 | 2019-10-07 20:36:36 | 79.79 | 97% |