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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 106352 | 2018-12-02 18:01:23 | 162.02 | 99% |
| 103729 | 2017-12-01 18:23:22 | 147.42 | 99% |
| 100231 | 2017-06-07 16:25:00 | 107.17 | 96% |
| 100079 | 2017-06-03 16:40:07 | 136.86 | 95% |
| 100078 | 2017-06-03 16:39:22 | 123.76 | 91% |
| 99111 | 2017-04-29 03:19:36 | 122.00 | 89% |
| 98435 | 2017-04-23 20:10:45 | 109.39 | 88% |
| 97177 | 2017-04-21 05:11:58 | 117.56 | 92% |