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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 417 | 2009-03-15 09:35:31 | 50.51 | |
| 124 | 2009-03-12 13:22:55 | 42.51 |