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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5068 | 2024-06-04 18:19:53 | 82.56 | 96.3% |
| 2075 | 2022-01-28 10:10:44 | 90.08 | 97% |
| 1954 | 2022-01-23 12:51:14 | 85.83 | 98% |