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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3572 | 2018-09-18 19:31:43 | 63.51 | 96% |
| 1129 | 2017-10-25 14:29:55 | 66.94 | 97% |
| 988 | 2017-10-09 15:13:25 | 66.39 | 97% |