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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8446 | 2021-03-14 09:56:43 | 70.12 | 96% |
| 8160 | 2021-02-02 15:01:17 | 71.87 | 96.4% |
| 3626 | 2020-03-06 03:31:50 | 59.87 | 95% |