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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6462 | 2020-07-30 17:18:01 | 92.62 | 96% |
| 5665 | 2020-07-26 01:07:16 | 90.64 | 96% |
| 5079 | 2020-07-21 22:56:20 | 87.33 | 97% |