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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5339 | 2022-02-21 16:04:57 | 75.00 | 96% |
| 3376 | 2021-04-11 16:12:44 | 70.72 | 98% |
| 1070 | 2020-09-14 14:39:19 | 61.35 | 94% |
| 559 | 2020-08-23 16:18:19 | 49.31 | 95% |