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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 13223 | 2016-12-08 17:00:49 | 71.56 | 93% |
| 13054 | 2016-11-29 22:00:42 | 82.38 | 96% |
| 12660 | 2016-09-13 17:55:14 | 73.92 | 97% |
| 11385 | 2016-05-10 23:12:46 | 86.22 | 98% |
| 10484 | 2016-02-23 23:21:28 | 78.37 | 97% |
| 10440 | 2016-02-20 20:02:47 | 66.88 | 94% |
| 9864 | 2016-01-09 02:49:59 | 70.96 | 95% |
| 9612 | 2016-01-02 05:34:43 | 83.09 | 100% |
| 9431 | 2015-12-22 19:39:47 | 80.70 | 97% |
| 8934 | 2015-12-08 22:15:39 | 78.73 | 97% |
| 8858 | 2015-12-07 21:21:07 | 71.69 | 97% |
| 8690 | 2015-12-03 17:36:32 | 69.61 | 95% |
| 7988 | 2015-09-21 23:31:47 | 72.81 | 98% |
| 7712 | 2015-06-20 21:32:54 | 74.52 | 97% |