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 |
---|---|---|---|
5173 | 2020-07-17 09:03:04 | 84.22 | 98% |
3068 | 2019-01-06 15:58:57 | 76.34 | 98% |
2078 | 2018-11-04 08:23:17 | 69.02 | 97% |