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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4049 | 2021-05-09 10:50:07 | 98.87 | 98% |
| 3049 | 2021-01-16 00:52:25 | 104.47 | 99% |
| 446 | 2019-05-30 03:01:04 | 71.07 | 98% |