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 |
---|---|---|---|
4248 | 2018-11-15 14:03:04 | 84.21 | 96% |
3090 | 2017-05-07 01:47:19 | 74.55 | 95% |
2816 | 2017-03-15 23:19:42 | 78.76 | 96% |