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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4683 | 2021-03-18 05:52:29 | 63.50 | 95% |
| 4119 | 2021-02-13 14:25:41 | 63.18 | 96.4% |
| 4004 | 2021-02-08 15:13:11 | 68.06 | 96% |
| 3894 | 2021-02-03 13:36:49 | 64.41 | 96.3% |