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 |
---|---|---|---|
4406 | 2024-07-26 03:01:10 | 100.90 | 97.1% |
4327 | 2024-07-24 10:31:35 | 88.81 | 95.8% |
1006 | 2021-06-02 12:48:32 | 75.07 | 96% |