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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 16955 | 2021-08-03 10:29:00 | 118.46 | 98% |
| 9126 | 2020-09-22 13:18:29 | 106.52 | 98% |
| 8760 | 2020-09-15 10:27:49 | 108.14 | 98% |
| 1840 | 2020-06-02 14:35:12 | 98.61 | 97% |
| 1100 | 2020-05-06 09:34:39 | 102.96 | 98% |