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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 20150 | 2023-03-17 08:33:24 | 141.88 | 98% |
| 19185 | 2022-04-11 18:00:28 | 167.80 | 99% |
| 16755 | 2022-02-04 07:16:05 | 138.18 | 97% |
| 11568 | 2021-12-07 17:53:45 | 162.05 | 99% |
| 8399 | 2021-09-18 15:36:57 | 150.99 | 98% |
| 7321 | 2021-09-14 14:20:42 | 141.59 | 98% |
| 7145 | 2021-09-13 13:21:25 | 141.15 | 98% |
| 5037 | 2015-12-09 12:33:26 | 135.48 | 96% |
| 4740 | 2015-11-30 12:27:59 | 134.29 | 97% |