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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2613 | 2019-09-12 17:40:05 | 91.48 | 98% |
| 2538 | 2019-02-11 03:04:22 | 100.04 | 98% |
| 2114 | 2018-05-25 00:31:48 | 110.40 | 100% |