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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 13635 | 2023-09-16 18:31:17 | 71.38 | 95% |
| 9576 | 2022-09-12 14:54:40 | 73.14 | 96% |
| 2482 | 2021-03-17 18:56:52 | 56.33 | 92% |
| 286 | 2020-10-21 00:35:26 | 48.61 | 93% |