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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5089 | 2023-10-05 16:38:13 | 84.52 | 98.5% |
| 4396 | 2023-07-09 10:14:04 | 83.49 | 98% |
| 3732 | 2023-06-10 13:39:32 | 76.33 | 97% |
| 3682 | 2023-06-08 11:27:57 | 71.98 | 98% |