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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7699 | 2022-10-16 01:09:04 | 130.99 | 98% |
| 6735 | 2016-05-20 13:39:01 | 116.88 | 96% |
| 4409 | 2015-04-10 17:51:12 | 101.99 | 91% |