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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4632 | 2019-12-09 03:20:54 | 133.87 | 98% |
| 2836 | 2019-09-12 18:16:46 | 121.25 | 99% |
| 2725 | 2019-08-14 18:40:00 | 124.52 | 98% |
| 2413 | 2019-07-19 19:05:56 | 111.43 | 98% |