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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4158 | 2021-10-13 09:48:30 | 112.51 | 97% |
| 3701 | 2021-09-21 08:02:09 | 91.75 | 97% |
| 1796 | 2018-07-24 03:33:58 | 68.14 | 96% |
| 1342 | 2017-06-03 04:30:13 | 54.07 | 88% |
| 1269 | 2017-05-12 04:26:19 | 52.75 | 83% |