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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 526 | 2022-01-01 11:11:17 | 76.72 | 96% |
| 496 | 2021-12-31 02:11:28 | 83.60 | 97% |
| 385 | 2021-11-16 05:43:56 | 78.67 | 97% |