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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 13022 | 2019-03-16 10:12:04 | 117.33 | 98% |
| 12024 | 2018-11-26 22:30:00 | 122.44 | 98% |
| 10571 | 2018-09-10 08:20:48 | 105.08 | 99% |
| 8669 | 2018-05-30 03:52:46 | 125.02 | 98% |
| 3076 | 2017-09-05 16:47:18 | 109.91 | 98% |
| 2967 | 2017-09-04 04:40:32 | 100.46 | 97% |
| 1548 | 2017-06-12 14:42:53 | 106.87 | 99% |
| 374 | 2015-08-23 08:37:35 | 90.36 | 94% |