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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4391 | 2021-10-16 13:46:58 | 90.24 | 99% |
| 2298 | 2021-02-28 21:22:26 | 89.83 | 98.7% |
| 636 | 2021-01-24 21:27:44 | 73.63 | 98% |