I drew the blankets over my head and tried to think of Christmas. But the grey face still followed me. It murmured, and I understood that it desired to confess something. I felt my soul receding into some pleasant and vicious region; and there again I found it waiting for me.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1868 | 2016-04-06 05:20:08 | 82.48 | 95% |
| 1844 | 2016-03-01 04:14:38 | 80.39 | 95% |