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 |
---|---|---|---|
19367 | 2020-06-07 05:30:18 | 162.21 | 99% |
18886 | 2020-06-03 09:08:54 | 163.10 | 99% |
6397 | 2020-01-16 02:10:09 | 166.93 | 99% |
1867 | 2019-09-02 21:22:05 | 143.26 | 98% |