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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 20058 | 2019-05-10 11:53:01 | 146.99 | 99% |
| 15826 | 2016-05-23 13:24:40 | 125.71 | 92% |
| 15330 | 2015-11-09 14:46:48 | 100.05 | 89% |
| 15076 | 2015-10-28 05:45:35 | 102.87 | 92% |
| 14635 | 2015-10-11 08:51:15 | 102.71 | 91% |
| 14624 | 2015-10-10 14:19:52 | 94.78 | 85% |
| 12223 | 2015-06-26 10:44:14 | 118.67 | 95% |
| 11471 | 2015-06-09 11:22:14 | 102.92 | 91% |
| 11266 | 2015-06-04 16:58:37 | 102.92 | 90% |
| 10775 | 2015-05-19 13:11:34 | 113.67 | 93% |
| 9825 | 2015-04-27 14:49:36 | 101.62 | 90% |
| 9706 | 2015-04-23 06:07:23 | 93.01 | 91% |