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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 12513 | 2022-10-03 19:52:58 | 85.70 | 96% |
| 11231 | 2022-08-12 18:24:52 | 88.21 | 96% |
| 6062 | 2022-01-31 15:57:59 | 69.48 | 95% |
| 1699 | 2021-10-30 15:00:26 | 72.55 | 96% |
| 841 | 2021-10-16 09:26:15 | 63.58 | 93% |