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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 30444 | 2020-10-01 08:38:16 | 145.23 | 99% |
| 28204 | 2020-05-12 14:38:08 | 136.03 | 97% |
| 26811 | 2020-04-03 14:35:37 | 150.81 | 99% |
| 19499 | 2018-08-27 15:21:09 | 131.12 | 98% |
| 19125 | 2018-07-16 09:59:58 | 131.64 | 98% |
| 18171 | 2018-06-21 06:40:38 | 136.88 | 98% |
| 11921 | 2017-10-25 03:24:54 | 137.98 | 99% |
| 7835 | 2017-05-18 09:25:03 | 145.73 | 98% |