He had seen her; he had even spoken to her. There was no danger in it. He knew as though instinctively that they now took almost no interest in his doings. He could have arranged to meet her a second time if either of them had wanted to. Actually it was by chance that they had met. It was in the Park, on a vile, biting day in March, when the earth was like iron and all the grass seemed dead and there was not a bud anywhere except a few crocuses which had pushed themselves up to be dismembered by the wind.
—from 1984, a book by George Orwell
Active since June 28, 2024.
510 total characters in this text.
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| Rank | Username | WPM | Accuracy | Date |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1. | idk man (ithatme) | 79.24 | 96% | 2024-06-28 |
| Universe | Races | Average WPM | First Race |
|---|---|---|---|
| o4do0q2x8u | 4 | 142.49 | February 2, 2019 |
| 1 | 79.24 | June 28, 2024 |