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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 9926 | 2020-06-15 13:22:51 | 96.17 | 97% |
| 8807 | 2020-04-29 18:18:26 | 98.12 | 97% |
| 6944 | 2020-01-23 09:24:47 | 99.73 | 98% |
| 5253 | 2019-09-03 12:40:04 | 81.07 | 98% |