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 |
---|---|---|---|
6808 | 2020-02-14 18:17:17 | 102.47 | 98% |
5449 | 2017-09-25 22:39:43 | 78.11 | 96% |
4561 | 2017-01-31 05:53:10 | 84.02 | 93% |
3727 | 2017-01-26 20:40:05 | 87.51 | 94% |
3580 | 2017-01-25 21:31:38 | 91.67 | 92% |