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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 14216 | 2023-08-06 05:39:59 | 103.65 | 99% |
| 10396 | 2021-07-02 13:52:29 | 95.81 | 98% |
| 6654 | 2021-01-15 16:02:44 | 112.97 | 99% |