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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10371 | 2023-02-14 07:14:15 | 73.17 | 98% |
| 7819 | 2018-10-05 22:09:40 | 62.56 | 98% |
| 6445 | 2017-03-13 21:22:34 | 73.49 | 96% |
| 6120 | 2016-11-19 13:16:47 | 71.81 | 94% |
| 6088 | 2016-11-08 21:58:59 | 67.96 | 96% |
| 5758 | 2016-04-23 17:46:23 | 73.10 | 97% |
| 4434 | 2015-04-15 15:06:09 | 62.42 | 95% |