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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4872 | 2023-04-14 18:28:23 | 90.14 | 97% |
| 3298 | 2022-09-11 10:14:40 | 72.47 | 96% |
| 2584 | 2022-06-07 10:06:03 | 77.75 | 95% |