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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4342 | 2021-11-21 13:39:39 | 76.12 | 97% |
| 3968 | 2021-11-02 08:07:44 | 73.15 | 96% |
| 3390 | 2021-10-13 05:25:59 | 71.79 | 95% |
| 1346 | 2021-09-04 22:27:29 | 54.33 | 94% |