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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4292 | 2024-03-14 03:34:14 | 95.49 | 98.8% |
| 3022 | 2023-07-20 22:10:38 | 90.12 | 97.9% |
| 56 | 2017-07-01 00:49:09 | 69.23 | 97% |