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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 12434 | 2020-06-28 02:48:51 | 103.50 | 97% |
| 5766 | 2020-03-18 06:19:38 | 86.56 | 96% |
| 3427 | 2020-02-03 04:33:41 | 98.82 | 98% |