I was stealing saltshakers again. Ten, sometimes twelve a night, shoving them in my pockets, hiding them up my sleeves, smuggling them out of bars and diners and anywhere else I could find them. In the morning, wherever I woke up, I was always covered in salt. I was cured meat. I had become beef jerky. Even as a small, small child, I knew it would one day come to this.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10048 | 2021-09-09 03:06:45 | 101.28 | 97% |
| 7361 | 2021-06-18 18:36:46 | 95.51 | 96% |
| 4893 | 2021-05-07 21:42:09 | 94.73 | 97% |
| 4359 | 2021-05-02 20:55:23 | 88.72 | 96% |
| 4060 | 2021-04-30 20:33:33 | 94.70 | 96% |
| 1150 | 2021-03-18 22:48:12 | 93.08 | 97% |