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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 483 | 2024-06-10 14:39:49 | 121.41 | 98% |
| 230 | 2024-06-08 22:28:57 | 132.08 | 98% |
| 117 | 2024-06-05 21:51:58 | 115.42 | 97.2% |