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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 13842 | 2023-07-18 08:41:33 | 105.39 | 98% |
| 9315 | 2019-01-22 18:49:12 | 88.34 | 97% |
| 2294 | 2017-12-03 15:20:23 | 84.64 | 98% |
| 1643 | 2016-12-25 09:03:59 | 67.18 | 89% |
| 1158 | 2016-02-26 14:16:11 | 59.10 | 89% |
| 710 | 2016-02-03 14:17:04 | 60.46 | 93% |
| 698 | 2016-02-02 11:29:36 | 52.45 | 88% |