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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11871 | 2022-06-13 21:51:16 | 97.77 | 97% |
| 10758 | 2021-09-22 22:57:38 | 95.05 | 97% |
| 6885 | 2019-12-11 21:01:10 | 83.57 | 98% |