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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2892 | 2021-01-28 21:28:52 | 91.58 | 98% |
| 2042 | 2017-04-21 15:19:12 | 91.81 | 92% |
| 1234 | 2016-11-14 05:42:13 | 92.36 | 94% |
| 81 | 2015-08-14 22:41:57 | 90.25 | 97% |