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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 37763 | 2020-07-08 12:56:48 | 149.25 | 98% |
| 24046 | 2019-05-17 19:42:45 | 156.92 | 99% |
| 23985 | 2019-05-17 18:08:58 | 169.24 | 100% |
| 23345 | 2019-05-10 16:15:31 | 161.15 | 99% |
| 6050 | 2018-11-20 21:53:42 | 131.92 | 98% |
| 1457 | 2018-06-06 17:37:59 | 128.70 | 98% |