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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 725 | 2020-06-24 12:22:15 | 101.19 | 99% |
| 673 | 2020-06-15 13:22:49 | 99.44 | 99% |
| 87 | 2018-06-20 16:16:44 | 94.68 | 97% |