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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 24052 | 2020-11-29 08:29:19 | 101.51 | 97% |
| 14728 | 2020-03-26 06:12:29 | 85.97 | 96% |
| 13343 | 2020-03-01 23:53:38 | 102.25 | 96% |