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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 20216 | 2025-07-01 13:28:31 | 85.50 | 98% |
| 7546 | 2021-01-06 09:21:06 | 63.11 | 95% |
| 6659 | 2020-11-28 16:38:10 | 56.31 | 96% |