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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1788 | 2022-06-17 02:15:06 | 102.51 | 98% |
| 44 | 2016-09-13 02:17:59 | 54.51 | 93% |
| 16 | 2016-09-12 03:02:07 | 68.99 | 94% |