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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3803 | 2021-02-06 20:58:42 | 62.60 | 98% |
| 3123 | 2021-01-02 17:19:00 | 60.17 | 98% |
| 2725 | 2020-12-09 18:42:53 | 55.74 | 98% |