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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4921 | 2020-09-10 19:47:34 | 180.28 | 99% |
| 4497 | 2020-05-19 18:22:15 | 176.18 | 99% |
| 597 | 2017-08-27 19:28:11 | 143.86 | 97% |