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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 13968 | 2021-08-03 18:30:00 | 88.06 | 95% |
| 2334 | 2017-04-18 05:18:22 | 66.42 | 82% |
| 997 | 2017-02-19 10:54:05 | 76.64 | 88% |
| 369 | 2016-10-23 08:06:11 | 71.18 | 89% |
| 275 | 2016-10-14 15:00:54 | 63.71 | 85% |
| 200 | 2016-10-05 18:49:56 | 69.02 | 87% |