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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1204 | 2024-02-03 15:11:34 | 92.28 | 96.7% |
| 555 | 2015-12-05 17:49:19 | 81.72 | 96% |
| 33 | 2015-04-04 20:08:27 | 79.86 | 96% |
| 11 | 2015-04-04 16:47:23 | 65.95 | 90% |