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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10976 | 2019-03-16 21:21:51 | 109.64 | 97% |
| 9551 | 2019-03-05 00:29:28 | 84.63 | 95% |
| 7024 | 2019-02-16 04:27:10 | 98.30 | 97% |