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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 9384 | 2021-07-27 07:32:08 | 87.04 | 98% |
| 8408 | 2021-05-28 16:26:54 | 79.60 | 97% |
| 5145 | 2016-06-18 14:14:38 | 68.84 | 84% |
| 3693 | 2016-04-30 17:04:06 | 75.64 | 94% |
| 3453 | 2016-04-27 20:52:02 | 80.80 | 93% |
| 1848 | 2015-05-16 23:17:01 | 63.94 | 91% |
| 1559 | 2015-05-07 15:30:19 | 62.37 | 92% |