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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5203 | 2021-08-28 19:51:36 | 62.58 | 97% |
| 2701 | 2021-06-05 12:25:43 | 63.30 | 98% |
| 2321 | 2021-05-09 16:27:38 | 63.79 | 97% |
| 400 | 2021-03-05 18:48:55 | 46.13 | 95% |