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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10856 | 2021-02-16 21:16:58 | 72.31 | 98% |
| 9240 | 2016-05-24 10:56:18 | 76.01 | 95% |
| 9036 | 2016-02-17 18:38:15 | 95.35 | 97% |
| 8298 | 2015-07-23 22:08:13 | 80.94 | 96% |