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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11069 | 2022-06-24 09:27:40 | 80.17 | 95% |
| 10301 | 2022-02-23 18:01:54 | 94.07 | 97% |
| 9457 | 2021-04-17 17:10:52 | 72.48 | 95% |
| 4219 | 2020-06-24 21:43:36 | 66.40 | 94% |