I drew the blankets over my head and tried to think of Christmas. But the grey face still followed me. It murmured, and I understood that it desired to confess something. I felt my soul receding into some pleasant and vicious region; and there again I found it waiting for me.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 141 | 2009-08-10 04:08:33 | 58.51 | |
| 138 | 2009-08-09 16:02:18 | 53.96 |