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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5465 | 2020-12-07 12:53:11 | 96.03 | 98% |
| 4414 | 2020-12-01 19:14:24 | 122.70 | 98% |
| 4048 | 2020-11-30 01:56:44 | 111.49 | 97% |