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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6808 | 2020-05-20 00:04:24 | 89.33 | 97% |
| 3506 | 2017-12-03 22:34:09 | 78.81 | 97% |
| 3006 | 2017-11-16 02:31:43 | 70.57 | 95% |