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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4774 | 2023-10-12 21:59:44 | 85.85 | 96.9% |
| 2659 | 2022-08-06 22:44:30 | 65.75 | 94% |
| 2209 | 2021-02-14 16:56:11 | 66.92 | 95.2% |