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 |
---|---|---|---|
3469 | 2019-03-16 02:10:04 | 80.46 | 96% |
769 | 2018-09-28 04:18:48 | 81.05 | 97% |
596 | 2018-09-25 08:53:01 | 74.25 | 97% |