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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 9700 | 2025-05-31 16:24:14 | 134.57 | 97% |
| 4972 | 2025-03-11 23:35:32 | 136.88 | 97.8% |
| 3807 | 2019-11-13 06:58:59 | 132.41 | 97% |