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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2681 | 2021-06-25 21:42:36 | 101.39 | 97% |
| 1392 | 2021-01-24 11:38:42 | 89.00 | 98% |
| 758 | 2020-10-07 17:47:14 | 100.00 | 99% |