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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8930 | 2020-05-17 15:39:04 | 85.54 | 97% |
| 7118 | 2020-04-03 15:02:54 | 90.18 | 98% |
| 1876 | 2019-11-16 15:38:52 | 86.29 | 98% |