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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 287 | 2023-06-23 05:37:12 | 75.49 | 97.1% |
| 221 | 2023-06-21 07:48:51 | 81.25 | 98.1% |
| 201 | 2023-06-16 06:24:30 | 83.63 | 98% |