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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4435 | 2021-11-28 15:20:56 | 86.42 | 97% |
| 605 | 2021-06-12 08:51:20 | 76.33 | 96% |
| 584 | 2021-06-11 09:26:19 | 79.20 | 97% |