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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1855 | 2023-03-03 17:05:23 | 94.49 | 98% |
| 658 | 2022-06-17 15:24:52 | 71.40 | 97% |
| 212 | 2021-12-29 06:43:56 | 56.30 | 95% |