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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 13665 | 2019-09-04 03:46:20 | 156.93 | 98% |
| 3872 | 2018-04-27 01:44:34 | 131.92 | 96% |
| 3871 | 2018-04-27 01:37:20 | 122.48 | 95% |