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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 13932 | 2024-04-19 15:12:57 | 69.21 | 96% |
| 6609 | 2023-09-18 12:54:56 | 64.41 | 95% |
| 223 | 2023-05-30 14:01:55 | 53.20 | 97% |