No, 8.8 is the tempo of the almost-too-fast. The runner’s second wind before the stitch. The hurried whisper before the secret slips.
(Imagining “Presto 8.8” as a tempo marking with a twist) presto 8.8
There’s a breathlessness to it — fingers stumbling just behind the brain, a metronome set to a number no one chose. Eight point eight. Not a round, confident allegro. Not the reckless abandon of 160. presto 8.8