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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 12865 | 2019-06-14 03:32:48 | 51.31 | 93% |
| 10917 | 2017-05-04 13:58:06 | 64.84 | 92% |
| 9724 | 2017-03-26 11:08:06 | 62.66 | 91% |
| 8211 | 2017-02-03 05:12:21 | 50.70 | 88% |