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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1990 | 2017-05-31 07:43:29 | 154.19 | 97% |
| 1325 | 2017-05-28 22:29:19 | 144.84 | 89% |
| 422 | 2017-05-24 00:12:02 | 123.00 | 84% |