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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 14009 | 2020-10-19 23:58:42 | 112.35 | 99% |
| 13094 | 2020-09-21 02:46:25 | 103.57 | 98% |
| 12660 | 2020-06-08 22:11:50 | 117.68 | 99% |
| 7375 | 2019-11-17 05:58:56 | 108.30 | 98% |
| 5669 | 2018-03-21 02:31:00 | 84.18 | 96% |
| 3751 | 2017-10-27 01:53:16 | 105.36 | 98% |
| 1139 | 2017-01-29 02:19:16 | 94.15 | 93% |