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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5089 | 2023-02-07 12:38:15 | 73.21 | 98% |
| 4805 | 2023-01-28 16:24:45 | 73.77 | 98% |
| 4440 | 2023-01-07 18:11:43 | 71.23 | 98% |