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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 18311 | 2023-05-04 02:07:09 | 79.04 | 95% |
| 15951 | 2023-02-10 07:32:01 | 90.50 | 97% |
| 15687 | 2023-01-30 09:10:59 | 83.62 | 95% |
| 15468 | 2023-01-24 13:03:10 | 79.22 | 97% |
| 15107 | 2023-01-10 06:33:38 | 72.09 | 98% |
| 8043 | 2020-01-22 05:00:52 | 64.57 | 96% |
| 3161 | 2016-06-22 02:57:14 | 68.60 | 93% |
| 2766 | 2016-04-19 02:57:54 | 68.91 | 95% |
| 2151 | 2016-04-04 16:23:24 | 58.28 | 90% |
| 1962 | 2016-03-05 10:09:41 | 61.54 | 93% |
| 1692 | 2016-03-01 17:20:41 | 57.53 | 94% |
| 1679 | 2016-03-01 11:30:27 | 59.80 | 91% |