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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6447 | 2018-11-10 21:45:32 | 85.59 | 95% |
| 4966 | 2018-06-23 16:58:28 | 92.17 | 96% |
| 4116 | 2018-03-23 17:01:01 | 86.04 | 95% |