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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3279 | 2022-11-07 13:41:55 | 57.11 | 95% |
| 3216 | 2022-11-04 10:03:34 | 56.70 | 94% |
| 2714 | 2022-10-14 05:04:14 | 51.57 | 93% |
| 1085 | 2022-08-25 16:58:20 | 41.98 | 93% |