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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1658 | 2024-02-13 17:01:14 | 92.55 | 96% |
| 1077 | 2023-12-11 00:52:15 | 82.11 | 95.7% |
| 20 | 2020-09-05 06:50:26 | 54.43 | 95% |