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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3907 | 2017-06-10 18:26:48 | 103.46 | 96% |
| 1573 | 2017-01-27 13:46:04 | 101.03 | 95% |
| 1359 | 2017-01-16 05:24:45 | 101.61 | 95% |