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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8775 | 2022-10-09 11:42:59 | 124.24 | 97% |
| 5661 | 2022-05-27 20:46:20 | 122.93 | 98% |
| 3281 | 2022-04-04 15:18:28 | 116.34 | 98% |