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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3993 | 2024-09-11 11:33:15 | 83.74 | 98.7% |
| 3402 | 2022-12-14 14:53:49 | 81.99 | 97% |
| 2992 | 2021-04-22 15:32:25 | 82.07 | 96% |
| 2638 | 2021-04-05 10:53:17 | 73.61 | 97% |
| 1276 | 2021-02-06 12:27:22 | 71.45 | 95.7% |