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 |
---|---|---|---|
1794 | 2018-04-11 18:47:13 | 102.61 | 97% |
1694 | 2018-04-11 09:27:10 | 108.03 | 97% |