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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 18778 | 2021-11-15 03:43:20 | 93.55 | 98% |
| 14584 | 2016-07-04 09:57:57 | 82.47 | 97% |
| 13968 | 2016-01-31 07:26:02 | 80.61 | 95% |
| 13840 | 2015-12-05 07:39:59 | 84.69 | 96% |
| 13626 | 2015-10-12 17:54:38 | 76.67 | 95% |
| 13546 | 2015-10-08 00:11:12 | 76.99 | 96% |
| 13282 | 2015-05-24 03:41:52 | 79.94 | 96% |