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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 15419 | 2022-11-08 04:25:44 | 90.01 | 97% |
| 9369 | 2021-04-21 13:06:59 | 75.75 | 94% |
| 7087 | 2021-02-04 09:32:57 | 83.26 | 97.6% |
| 4894 | 2020-10-28 11:47:05 | 86.57 | 97% |
| 1626 | 2020-07-26 16:34:39 | 72.20 | 95% |