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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2165 | 2023-02-13 15:54:19 | 63.17 | 99% |
| 1861 | 2021-04-24 11:48:35 | 65.88 | 98% |
| 635 | 2019-03-12 03:31:02 | 54.82 | 98% |