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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7222 | 2021-06-29 05:28:16 | 75.16 | 95% |
| 4019 | 2021-02-15 19:52:42 | 59.69 | 93% |
| 1664 | 2020-12-29 15:26:39 | 66.13 | 96% |