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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 15365 | 2017-06-08 21:54:19 | 189.71 | 99% |
| 14612 | 2017-05-03 04:06:04 | 182.98 | 97% |
| 11556 | 2016-07-07 00:56:53 | 184.73 | 99% |
| 11020 | 2016-05-19 02:52:51 | 186.79 | 99% |
| 10952 | 2016-05-16 00:12:42 | 181.19 | 100% |