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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 382 | 2021-03-23 20:53:19 | 65.01 | 98% |
| 325 | 2021-03-04 22:16:22 | 59.17 | 96% |
| 289 | 2021-03-02 21:57:31 | 53.57 | 95% |