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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10357 | 2025-03-23 22:12:26 | 94.80 | 98% |
| 7050 | 2023-03-21 20:48:04 | 75.60 | 95% |
| 464 | 2022-04-20 03:41:35 | 73.19 | 95% |