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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6342 | 2024-10-05 15:26:38 | 104.85 | 98.1% |
| 514 | 2023-05-17 18:01:14 | 81.35 | 96.2% |
| 394 | 2023-05-15 19:47:25 | 78.99 | 96.9% |