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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3577 | 2017-10-18 14:58:12 | 98.93 | 98% |
| 2589 | 2017-07-03 17:40:28 | 88.17 | 96% |
| 2517 | 2017-07-01 19:47:07 | 91.30 | 97% |
| 2045 | 2017-06-23 00:07:14 | 81.99 | 96% |
| 1891 | 2017-06-20 19:27:52 | 78.00 | 95% |