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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 12497 | 2020-12-15 13:35:37 | 83.87 | 96% |
| 7893 | 2019-02-10 11:27:45 | 113.21 | 98% |
| 5293 | 2017-09-28 04:33:53 | 85.10 | 95% |
| 2767 | 2017-05-09 13:48:05 | 86.10 | 91% |
| 2122 | 2017-04-12 14:06:41 | 77.65 | 87% |
| 1757 | 2017-04-02 08:16:42 | 63.47 | 82% |