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 |
---|---|---|---|
8750 | 2023-05-29 07:50:26 | 65.92 | 97% |
7690 | 2023-02-02 07:54:51 | 71.54 | 98% |
7409 | 2023-01-04 07:13:09 | 70.55 | 98% |