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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6987 | 2023-05-20 15:05:12 | 66.68 | 98% |
| 6736 | 2016-12-09 15:31:19 | 67.23 | 96% |
| 6038 | 2015-09-30 15:27:47 | 74.85 | 97% |
| 5664 | 2015-07-31 03:03:28 | 76.97 | 97% |