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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5300 | 2022-04-14 16:05:01 | 103.54 | 98% |
| 4662 | 2021-08-19 23:19:52 | 110.58 | 99% |
| 4446 | 2021-02-17 17:42:39 | 123.89 | 99.2% |
| 2752 | 2016-08-15 19:00:32 | 119.37 | 97% |
| 2440 | 2016-04-01 22:55:37 | 103.68 | 95% |