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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 15846 | 2017-05-25 04:15:04 | 91.43 | 97% |
| 15792 | 2017-05-23 19:50:55 | 88.99 | 98% |
| 15576 | 2017-03-18 20:44:13 | 94.52 | 97% |