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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4620 | 2022-02-04 20:32:07 | 120.95 | 99% |
| 2699 | 2016-09-05 13:20:24 | 127.79 | 93% |
| 2419 | 2016-05-17 17:50:29 | 108.77 | 94% |