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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8419 | 2019-03-31 20:33:09 | 67.47 | 96% |
| 5818 | 2018-10-21 21:21:22 | 64.58 | 97% |
| 1992 | 2018-06-18 17:36:24 | 69.23 | 98% |
| 1566 | 2018-06-08 14:28:25 | 61.57 | 95% |