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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7967 | 2024-05-15 01:06:30 | 118.12 | 97.1% |
| 5249 | 2023-09-22 07:18:24 | 113.79 | 96.4% |
| 3446 | 2022-01-05 19:06:47 | 121.13 | 97% |
| 2574 | 2021-09-10 00:55:56 | 99.34 | 96% |