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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3540 | 2020-11-27 03:38:28 | 77.37 | 97% |
| 3525 | 2020-11-27 03:22:42 | 80.84 | 98% |
| 2295 | 2020-10-26 01:56:39 | 62.86 | 95% |