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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7720 | 2019-08-22 00:07:09 | 119.87 | 99% |
| 4982 | 2019-07-06 06:34:09 | 115.16 | 98% |
| 3198 | 2019-05-28 13:30:19 | 100.46 | 98% |
| 2413 | 2019-05-20 11:34:27 | 100.07 | 98% |