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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5046 | 2024-01-17 02:21:35 | 95.16 | 96.5% |
| 2016 | 2023-02-14 23:34:38 | 108.84 | 98% |
| 1812 | 2023-02-13 20:09:34 | 109.59 | 98% |
| 1705 | 2023-02-12 05:05:12 | 90.91 | 97% |
| 1622 | 2023-02-11 22:59:07 | 98.99 | 97% |