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 |
---|---|---|---|
10761 | 2020-04-12 00:26:45 | 145.54 | 99% |
6704 | 2019-10-06 03:06:02 | 123.33 | 98% |
4098 | 2019-07-12 07:18:29 | 120.16 | 98% |