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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 28852 | 2022-01-09 13:28:00 | 108.81 | 97% |
| 15145 | 2018-09-17 09:47:40 | 124.55 | 98% |
| 12135 | 2018-05-02 08:27:00 | 115.38 | 98% |
| 7629 | 2017-04-29 11:31:19 | 109.00 | 94% |
| 5629 | 2017-01-19 13:17:36 | 118.27 | 98% |
| 2184 | 2016-08-07 10:52:59 | 111.84 | 97% |
| 48 | 2016-07-04 12:47:26 | 92.52 | 94% |