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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5571 | 2020-10-20 14:24:07 | 118.70 | 97% |
| 3013 | 2020-06-02 01:48:27 | 103.76 | 97% |
| 844 | 2020-01-08 02:53:13 | 101.52 | 98% |
| 559 | 2019-12-19 00:41:36 | 91.67 | 96% |