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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2969 | 2022-07-01 20:43:29 | 87.94 | 98% |
| 2501 | 2022-03-31 22:00:50 | 82.78 | 97% |
| 1002 | 2021-10-19 20:18:10 | 81.14 | 98% |