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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2156 | 2018-08-03 21:39:43 | 78.60 | 98% |
| 436 | 2018-06-20 09:16:26 | 63.92 | 97% |