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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7551 | 2021-04-18 09:56:00 | 99.82 | 98% |
| 6468 | 2020-12-29 09:23:06 | 100.68 | 99% |
| 2620 | 2020-04-28 08:42:47 | 97.06 | 98% |