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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 17944 | 2023-06-25 10:30:14 | 83.29 | 97% |
| 16605 | 2023-04-12 05:33:23 | 74.97 | 98% |
| 1587 | 2022-09-29 14:33:27 | 59.95 | 97% |