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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 44211 | 2024-02-17 05:11:05 | 130.19 | 98.2% |
| 42084 | 2023-11-05 08:21:48 | 138.20 | 98.7% |
| 23767 | 2021-01-04 04:25:36 | 102.84 | 97% |
| 8901 | 2020-03-26 05:52:21 | 103.45 | 98% |
| 7354 | 2018-08-31 06:41:00 | 102.51 | 97% |
| 1125 | 2017-11-25 05:23:49 | 70.00 | 96% |