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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1386 | 2024-01-16 08:21:05 | 113.91 | 97.1% |
| 567 | 2023-04-10 21:47:38 | 107.68 | 97% |
| 502 | 2022-11-14 04:58:22 | 102.62 | 96% |
| 409 | 2022-09-01 17:07:17 | 107.20 | 98% |