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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2912 | 2020-05-11 19:39:01 | 92.65 | 97% |
| 2087 | 2020-04-23 14:36:21 | 85.59 | 97% |
| 1641 | 2020-04-08 22:17:45 | 81.46 | 95% |
| 1357 | 2020-04-05 18:12:37 | 94.00 | 97% |