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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10221 | 2018-03-09 19:54:03 | 85.58 | 97% |
| 8503 | 2017-09-03 19:24:01 | 84.04 | 97% |
| 8428 | 2017-09-03 13:57:37 | 89.55 | 97% |
| 7095 | 2017-07-16 19:44:45 | 91.67 | 97% |
| 6598 | 2017-07-02 17:31:15 | 95.00 | 98% |