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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 13751 | 2020-11-06 15:35:34 | 87.74 | 97% |
| 5332 | 2018-09-03 06:54:35 | 68.53 | 96% |
| 5019 | 2018-08-22 06:26:53 | 71.48 | 96% |
| 5016 | 2018-08-22 06:22:16 | 74.32 | 96% |