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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4401 | 2022-09-30 19:13:19 | 69.92 | 95% |
| 962 | 2022-02-02 09:59:33 | 55.66 | 96% |
| 73 | 2022-01-13 07:54:40 | 51.82 | 98% |