What really counted was the possibility of escape, a leap of freedom, out of the implacable ritual, a wild run for it that would give whatever chance for hope there was. Of course, hope meant being cut down on some street corner, as you ran like mad, by a random bullet. But when I really thought it through, nothing was going to allow me such a luxury. Everything was against it; I would just be caught up in the machinery again.
Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
---|---|---|---|
4057 | 2019-11-01 14:56:36 | 87.38 | 99% |
1886 | 2019-01-11 12:36:54 | 74.89 | 98% |