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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7023 | 2022-08-14 16:52:23 | 81.17 | 95% |
| 6106 | 2022-08-06 18:35:20 | 82.10 | 95% |
| 5246 | 2022-07-29 04:28:32 | 91.47 | 96% |
| 342 | 2018-10-21 17:57:14 | 45.38 | 92% |