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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 19730 | 2023-10-15 10:43:18 | 106.43 | 96.8% |
| 15383 | 2021-02-23 23:14:13 | 92.50 | 96% |
| 12269 | 2020-08-28 09:22:48 | 89.84 | 96% |
| 5542 | 2019-12-14 12:55:30 | 76.93 | 95% |