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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7462 | 2023-08-18 22:26:59 | 141.18 | 97.3% |
| 6961 | 2023-04-26 23:13:56 | 133.85 | 98% |
| 2008 | 2019-09-03 23:26:44 | 84.11 | 95% |
| 549 | 2018-12-23 01:33:29 | 77.66 | 96% |