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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1256 | 2021-12-12 13:50:20 | 48.91 | 96% |
| 723 | 2021-11-17 14:19:11 | 51.06 | 96% |
| 514 | 2021-11-16 10:01:03 | 51.31 | 96% |