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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 9363 | 2017-09-21 15:53:35 | 84.69 | 98% |
| 8584 | 2017-09-11 13:06:26 | 84.39 | 99% |
| 8331 | 2017-09-08 18:24:52 | 84.31 | 98% |
| 6098 | 2017-06-06 16:10:30 | 70.25 | 96% |