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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 48295 | 2018-02-15 17:16:51 | 179.57 | 99% |
| 43483 | 2018-01-16 18:16:59 | 160.52 | 99% |
| 42861 | 2018-01-13 08:20:21 | 172.37 | 99% |
| 32700 | 2017-10-28 19:16:17 | 145.20 | 99% |
| 31934 | 2017-10-24 01:43:12 | 143.35 | 99% |
| 31033 | 2017-10-19 11:21:13 | 136.00 | 98% |
| 26541 | 2017-10-06 04:08:38 | 134.50 | 98% |