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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5360 | 2023-01-27 11:30:52 | 76.23 | 95% |
| 5144 | 2023-01-18 11:41:30 | 77.45 | 95% |
| 2625 | 2022-08-04 08:22:19 | 83.20 | 97% |