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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3167 | 2022-12-02 01:02:15 | 97.58 | 97% |
| 170 | 2021-08-10 12:46:17 | 83.41 | 95% |
| 162 | 2021-08-10 06:27:43 | 92.38 | 97% |