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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 17365 | 2018-12-27 20:45:13 | 91.05 | 99% |
| 17101 | 2018-03-02 00:50:10 | 82.63 | 97% |
| 16718 | 2018-01-31 15:45:39 | 86.86 | 98% |
| 16540 | 2018-01-23 08:57:34 | 86.57 | 99% |