Helplessly hoping, her harlequin hovers nearby, awaiting a word. Gasping at glimpses of gentle true spirit, he runs, wishing he could fly, only to trip at the sound of good-bye.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 341 | 2020-02-01 05:25:11 | 65.04 | 97% |
| 321 | 2020-02-01 02:56:30 | 66.40 | 97% |