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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2599 | 2022-08-01 12:12:08 | 61.90 | 98% |
| 2111 | 2022-07-06 02:59:14 | 60.34 | 99% |
| 918 | 2021-10-06 19:10:54 | 43.60 | 98% |