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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5372 | 2023-01-25 03:19:56 | 94.87 | 97% |
| 5335 | 2023-01-20 03:21:02 | 94.57 | 98% |
| 2059 | 2016-09-26 06:58:11 | 83.41 | 92% |
| 922 | 2016-07-30 00:06:03 | 70.67 | 87% |