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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 22254 | 2019-04-24 20:19:02 | 150.76 | 99% |
| 14567 | 2019-02-25 09:53:36 | 140.22 | 98% |
| 10903 | 2019-01-15 14:20:39 | 143.48 | 98% |
| 6058 | 2018-11-20 22:02:21 | 133.26 | 98% |
| 3250 | 2018-10-14 12:46:59 | 139.45 | 98% |