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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7660 | 2020-08-16 00:25:04 | 82.67 | 99% |
| 6544 | 2020-05-28 23:46:03 | 80.37 | 99% |
| 1106 | 2018-06-02 01:19:28 | 57.70 | 97% |
| 1034 | 2018-05-31 00:11:49 | 67.17 | 97% |