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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5791 | 2021-04-10 08:51:03 | 92.43 | 97% |
| 1909 | 2019-03-10 16:43:49 | 82.38 | 98% |
| 1149 | 2019-02-22 05:19:36 | 66.63 | 96% |