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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 23611 | 2020-10-29 18:43:52 | 120.31 | 99% |
| 21659 | 2020-09-16 01:23:23 | 103.28 | 97% |
| 14076 | 2020-03-17 03:10:04 | 99.66 | 98% |
| 6761 | 2019-10-19 00:39:17 | 96.88 | 98% |
| 2899 | 2019-07-16 01:57:35 | 84.77 | 97% |
| 2307 | 2019-07-01 20:35:04 | 96.82 | 97% |
| 1433 | 2019-05-29 00:16:12 | 93.34 | 97% |