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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5338 | 2024-02-12 21:37:10 | 111.18 | 98.7% |
| 3285 | 2021-01-18 04:40:47 | 107.71 | 98% |
| 3233 | 2021-01-17 06:58:46 | 98.88 | 98% |