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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4051 | 2017-10-23 21:55:40 | 112.31 | 98% |
| 3273 | 2017-08-13 22:43:54 | 100.96 | 97% |
| 3138 | 2017-08-08 03:45:22 | 111.74 | 98% |