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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8279 | 2022-12-03 18:11:18 | 83.49 | 97% |
| 7252 | 2022-10-29 18:00:34 | 75.03 | 97% |
| 2011 | 2021-03-30 13:33:46 | 55.12 | 96% |
| 819 | 2021-02-21 13:52:03 | 42.90 | 95.6% |
| 598 | 2021-02-14 13:22:57 | 49.33 | 96.3% |