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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8615 | 2021-03-08 23:08:19 | 111.12 | 99% |
| 1694 | 2018-01-19 17:09:57 | 93.96 | 98% |
| 102 | 2017-02-16 03:51:40 | 75.24 | 95% |