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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 14669 | 2017-08-21 11:05:53 | 71.57 | 98% |
| 11305 | 2017-05-22 06:06:30 | 65.52 | 95% |
| 10905 | 2017-05-21 11:41:05 | 68.30 | 97% |
| 10543 | 2017-05-21 04:05:36 | 67.84 | 94% |
| 10288 | 2017-05-20 06:15:56 | 70.29 | 97% |
| 9861 | 2017-05-18 13:52:31 | 67.85 | 98% |
| 9280 | 2017-05-15 14:00:30 | 73.56 | 99% |
| 7529 | 2017-04-22 09:45:29 | 60.71 | 92% |
| 6338 | 2017-02-23 06:37:57 | 62.82 | 99% |
| 5626 | 2017-02-17 10:09:07 | 50.34 | 91% |
| 5175 | 2017-02-14 04:55:37 | 50.88 | 94% |
| 5125 | 2017-02-13 10:07:34 | 48.87 | 92% |
| 4119 | 2017-02-06 06:59:21 | 55.29 | 94% |
| 3305 | 2017-01-31 06:12:55 | 55.16 | 95% |
| 2049 | 2017-01-24 14:15:17 | 59.02 | 98% |
| 671 | 2017-01-18 23:38:12 | 62.69 | 97% |