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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7504 | 2021-01-17 03:56:14 | 80.80 | 95% |
| 5447 | 2018-07-01 15:03:50 | 88.21 | 96% |
| 4860 | 2018-06-18 15:09:39 | 86.20 | 97% |
| 3419 | 2018-05-23 13:06:39 | 89.42 | 97% |
| 3078 | 2018-05-12 16:04:49 | 78.64 | 96% |