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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 12084 | 2023-02-25 10:36:17 | 118.13 | 98% |
| 6687 | 2022-10-10 14:46:39 | 117.84 | 98% |
| 3188 | 2021-12-12 20:31:14 | 108.38 | 98% |