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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2717 | 2025-07-04 13:20:10 | 113.23 | 99% |
| 900 | 2025-06-05 08:34:29 | 97.86 | 96% |
| 781 | 2025-06-03 16:26:13 | 100.68 | 98% |
| 49 | 2025-05-22 13:44:27 | 103.21 | 97.5% |