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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1538 | 2023-09-25 12:52:49 | 88.19 | 97.5% |
| 768 | 2019-06-28 11:18:55 | 75.64 | 96% |
| 527 | 2015-05-17 13:47:13 | 70.64 | 93% |
| 492 | 2015-05-17 04:34:16 | 68.45 | 89% |
| 469 | 2015-05-17 03:59:58 | 81.82 | 95% |