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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 30374 | 2024-02-14 23:46:21 | 82.79 | 98.3% |
| 26706 | 2021-01-02 16:29:35 | 75.84 | 99% |
| 21324 | 2019-05-07 18:12:14 | 81.70 | 100% |
| 21219 | 2019-05-05 22:37:51 | 68.93 | 99% |
| 20787 | 2019-05-02 11:36:17 | 72.89 | 99% |
| 17547 | 2018-11-03 07:31:09 | 66.88 | 99% |
| 17061 | 2018-10-24 17:27:25 | 70.20 | 100% |
| 16788 | 2018-10-14 12:33:19 | 68.13 | 99% |
| 13810 | 2018-08-14 08:06:25 | 74.09 | 100% |
| 8570 | 2018-04-07 09:01:01 | 70.61 | 99% |
| 7692 | 2018-03-23 01:31:21 | 70.56 | 99% |