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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 23263 | 2020-04-28 08:42:40 | 115.27 | 98% |
| 17747 | 2016-11-11 07:59:57 | 98.83 | 95% |
| 16415 | 2015-09-04 14:51:41 | 95.54 | 92% |
| 16248 | 2015-08-31 04:09:43 | 99.56 | 92% |
| 15385 | 2015-06-17 13:04:56 | 103.01 | 96% |
| 15071 | 2015-06-01 07:33:30 | 94.96 | 94% |
| 14775 | 2015-05-20 00:34:04 | 96.23 | 94% |
| 14479 | 2015-05-10 10:10:59 | 101.26 | 94% |
| 14302 | 2015-05-03 13:32:24 | 99.73 | 94% |
| 13769 | 2015-04-12 14:10:45 | 95.25 | 95% |