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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7231 | 2021-05-12 04:39:41 | 127.00 | 97% |
| 368 | 2017-01-04 01:17:50 | 124.44 | 89% |
| 266 | 2016-12-24 19:15:50 | 126.88 | 91% |