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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 46993 | 2024-04-18 03:20:25 | 139.41 | 99% |
| 44019 | 2022-12-21 00:15:48 | 131.59 | 99% |
| 42462 | 2022-09-10 07:28:32 | 134.46 | 99% |
| 39619 | 2018-09-26 01:22:20 | 148.63 | 99% |
| 35385 | 2016-12-07 19:31:50 | 117.79 | 91% |
| 33776 | 2016-07-19 00:10:55 | 116.65 | 90% |
| 33156 | 2016-04-28 21:43:46 | 141.15 | 97% |
| 32857 | 2016-04-22 18:59:21 | 127.50 | 94% |
| 32613 | 2015-09-13 08:06:06 | 131.77 | 97% |
| 29780 | 2015-05-04 20:04:26 | 133.98 | 99% |