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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 19317 | 2020-09-11 21:08:13 | 82.65 | 97% |
| 15890 | 2020-05-27 17:18:05 | 81.47 | 95% |
| 15824 | 2020-05-27 10:11:30 | 84.88 | 94% |
| 1378 | 2018-12-05 18:04:40 | 74.29 | 96% |