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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 17065 | 2021-03-24 01:01:26 | 69.44 | 97% |
| 15951 | 2021-02-09 21:00:24 | 67.71 | 98% |
| 14103 | 2020-12-09 18:42:36 | 71.61 | 99% |
| 10620 | 2020-08-25 17:02:46 | 66.82 | 99% |
| 6168 | 2019-01-17 22:36:52 | 75.67 | 99% |
| 5428 | 2016-01-02 10:41:47 | 54.10 | 92% |
| 4804 | 2015-06-23 22:07:12 | 75.97 | 98% |