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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1858 | 2018-10-22 03:40:48 | 103.55 | 98% |
| 1428 | 2018-10-17 13:24:30 | 107.14 | 99% |
| 1089 | 2018-10-13 18:45:07 | 95.10 | 97% |
| 950 | 2018-10-08 21:09:09 | 102.61 | 99% |