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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4917 | 2018-10-21 13:55:46 | 77.60 | 94% |
| 4357 | 2018-09-03 16:56:08 | 78.30 | 96% |
| 4184 | 2018-08-31 08:01:19 | 84.17 | 97% |
| 455 | 2017-09-13 15:40:17 | 73.60 | 99% |