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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4206 | 2023-08-19 16:40:58 | 74.38 | 96% |
| 3751 | 2023-07-24 04:45:40 | 65.41 | 96% |
| 89 | 2021-07-08 06:10:20 | 44.36 | 96% |