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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5142 | 2025-05-13 20:57:05 | 97.44 | 97% |
| 4702 | 2025-04-23 20:37:42 | 89.47 | 96% |
| 4271 | 2025-04-01 17:59:52 | 94.34 | 96.3% |
| 2271 | 2024-09-07 18:08:59 | 82.50 | 96.7% |