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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1739 | 2023-08-07 16:48:44 | 83.31 | 98% |
| 1485 | 2023-06-09 17:15:49 | 76.35 | 96% |
| 1465 | 2023-06-06 18:07:11 | 72.33 | 96% |