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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 12950 | 2023-09-28 14:30:51 | 57.04 | 96.1% |
| 10793 | 2023-06-27 14:17:33 | 65.39 | 98% |
| 6326 | 2023-05-13 06:05:45 | 63.56 | 98% |
| 6138 | 2023-05-12 00:45:34 | 53.14 | 96% |