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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 21593 | 2021-09-27 20:51:12 | 49.82 | 97% |
| 19737 | 2021-06-23 21:52:57 | 53.27 | 96% |
| 16132 | 2021-03-28 23:52:53 | 51.77 | 96% |
| 15066 | 2021-03-11 16:57:19 | 50.61 | 96% |
| 12111 | 2021-01-24 17:03:25 | 67.91 | 99% |
| 8260 | 2018-01-17 17:02:55 | 51.11 | 96% |
| 4648 | 2017-09-23 19:10:50 | 54.79 | 96% |
| 4540 | 2017-09-16 01:20:46 | 46.09 | 96% |
| 3303 | 2017-07-30 14:56:08 | 55.38 | 98% |
| 1612 | 2017-05-15 07:03:01 | 55.17 | 95% |
| 1224 | 2017-04-12 03:29:25 | 50.19 | 92% |