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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4755 | 2022-04-01 05:06:00 | 58.75 | 99% |
| 4161 | 2021-09-01 05:57:21 | 60.27 | 99% |
| 982 | 2017-10-12 04:29:36 | 53.51 | 98% |
| 220 | 2017-05-04 10:20:15 | 45.87 | 96% |
| 156 | 2017-05-01 08:35:49 | 46.67 | 98% |