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 |
---|---|---|---|
675 | 2021-01-04 11:39:11 | 59.67 | 96% |
408 | 2020-12-15 18:18:03 | 56.98 | 96% |
405 | 2020-12-14 09:04:09 | 59.74 | 97% |