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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2802 | 2023-09-13 02:56:00 | 94.57 | 97% |
| 2272 | 2023-02-20 22:05:12 | 97.08 | 97% |
| 2103 | 2023-02-06 14:18:28 | 93.86 | 97% |
| 1503 | 2022-10-03 21:21:24 | 91.32 | 98% |