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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 34581 | 2023-10-21 23:03:27 | 148.22 | 98.4% |
| 27294 | 2023-07-21 00:14:00 | 168.04 | 99% |
| 14383 | 2021-03-08 03:04:25 | 156.51 | 99% |
| 2143 | 2020-08-03 03:42:39 | 132.61 | 99% |