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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 44313 | 2020-05-02 19:17:17 | 139.85 | 98% |
| 41094 | 2019-07-05 17:20:26 | 151.20 | 99% |
| 20965 | 2017-01-30 20:10:33 | 139.30 | 92% |