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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 22807 | 2018-03-27 12:39:45 | 124.03 | 97% |
| 22047 | 2018-03-13 17:24:17 | 124.16 | 98% |
| 15768 | 2018-01-12 14:18:59 | 118.83 | 98% |
| 15767 | 2018-01-12 14:17:34 | 138.46 | 100% |
| 4258 | 2017-07-20 13:16:43 | 146.16 | 100% |