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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11009 | 2020-11-25 18:12:48 | 72.91 | 97% |
| 4252 | 2020-06-27 01:02:12 | 112.45 | 97% |
| 2849 | 2020-06-08 21:03:47 | 118.09 | 98% |
| 2441 | 2020-05-28 04:06:03 | 114.88 | 98% |
| 2208 | 2020-05-22 21:02:41 | 107.87 | 98% |