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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7329 | 2017-07-18 06:40:01 | 131.25 | 98% |
| 4964 | 2017-02-14 14:52:22 | 116.33 | 98% |
| 4594 | 2017-02-04 22:51:15 | 134.11 | 97% |