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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4634 | 2015-09-28 19:16:52 | 72.16 | 97% |
| 3903 | 2015-07-21 23:57:02 | 77.43 | 96% |
| 3147 | 2015-05-19 04:21:34 | 71.28 | 95% |
| 3019 | 2015-05-15 02:51:45 | 74.71 | 96% |
| 3010 | 2015-05-15 02:39:40 | 68.75 | 96% |