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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8366 | 2020-01-12 07:41:58 | 103.12 | 97% |
| 6461 | 2019-12-27 04:14:24 | 107.33 | 98% |
| 6332 | 2019-12-25 04:59:08 | 112.05 | 97% |
| 6102 | 2019-12-23 09:05:45 | 129.72 | 99% |
| 1359 | 2017-07-08 04:02:37 | 73.29 | 95% |