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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 57896 | 2019-08-03 18:38:47 | 133.27 | 98% |
| 54157 | 2018-07-23 12:16:19 | 121.73 | 97% |
| 51571 | 2018-06-01 11:31:45 | 135.80 | 98% |
| 50332 | 2018-05-21 17:13:40 | 107.09 | 97% |
| 47242 | 2017-01-27 13:46:02 | 105.29 | 92% |