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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6109 | 2022-03-06 16:05:49 | 70.57 | 97% |
| 2563 | 2021-04-06 20:14:39 | 65.01 | 97% |
| 1122 | 2020-03-08 19:10:44 | 58.73 | 96% |