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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11513 | 2017-10-08 22:07:42 | 85.33 | 100% |
| 10283 | 2017-09-11 00:36:06 | 72.03 | 98% |
| 9735 | 2017-06-24 04:44:37 | 68.78 | 98% |
| 8775 | 2016-12-18 06:38:08 | 76.37 | 97% |
| 8683 | 2016-12-16 18:56:32 | 71.43 | 96% |
| 8310 | 2016-12-11 02:28:58 | 81.99 | 99% |
| 7875 | 2016-12-01 20:02:52 | 70.79 | 96% |
| 6056 | 2015-10-07 18:08:56 | 71.00 | 96% |