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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8540 | 2017-07-13 14:48:28 | 76.80 | 97% |
| 7695 | 2017-06-23 18:37:53 | 63.50 | 94% |
| 6993 | 2017-06-13 19:48:47 | 73.42 | 97% |
| 6556 | 2017-06-07 19:16:30 | 62.33 | 95% |