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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11019 | 2024-02-04 23:31:20 | 98.45 | 96.9% |
| 5320 | 2018-05-30 08:28:55 | 101.99 | 98% |
| 4586 | 2016-06-11 03:52:11 | 88.98 | 92% |
| 4524 | 2016-03-17 18:49:27 | 83.87 | 93% |