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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11739 | 2019-04-17 20:07:38 | 128.47 | 96% |
| 6134 | 2018-07-07 00:16:37 | 143.38 | 98% |
| 4615 | 2018-05-15 01:53:12 | 135.97 | 97% |
| 4316 | 2018-05-05 19:49:03 | 131.57 | 97% |
| 2724 | 2018-01-13 02:38:30 | 137.91 | 98% |