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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5579 | 2023-12-11 08:08:52 | 116.96 | 97.5% |
| 4434 | 2023-11-09 15:59:17 | 107.85 | 96.9% |
| 3898 | 2023-10-31 14:14:57 | 98.48 | 96.4% |