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 |
---|---|---|---|
1374 | 2019-01-28 03:26:56 | 116.88 | 99% |
1349 | 2019-01-26 18:34:44 | 102.66 | 98% |