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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1408 | 2021-08-28 09:17:50 | 61.29 | 98% |
| 1083 | 2018-11-29 15:56:02 | 50.08 | 96% |
| 423 | 2018-05-02 15:47:55 | 45.57 | 96% |