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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3194 | 2023-08-20 06:01:29 | 123.33 | 100% |
| 2566 | 2023-04-25 04:51:51 | 129.52 | 99% |
| 1994 | 2023-03-14 00:46:51 | 118.37 | 99% |
| 1463 | 2022-12-13 19:35:12 | 121.73 | 99% |