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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6191 | 2020-07-02 12:20:43 | 94.09 | 97% |
| 4894 | 2019-10-01 12:05:27 | 95.34 | 97% |
| 936 | 2017-08-02 13:28:53 | 71.17 | 96% |