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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3811 | 2023-11-27 04:06:43 | 96.45 | 98.9% |
| 3198 | 2022-07-04 01:48:30 | 88.16 | 99% |
| 2226 | 2015-04-21 09:27:55 | 70.24 | 92% |