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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1641 | 2017-08-19 23:08:45 | 130.53 | 98% |
| 1331 | 2017-07-06 02:29:19 | 143.34 | 98% |
| 1093 | 2017-07-02 17:31:01 | 128.24 | 97% |