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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6050 | 2022-05-08 01:40:02 | 61.67 | 98% |
| 5789 | 2022-04-19 18:58:21 | 58.00 | 96% |
| 3978 | 2021-10-15 09:38:33 | 59.75 | 97% |
| 902 | 2021-03-21 10:25:57 | 44.79 | 97% |