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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2124 | 2021-05-05 05:14:04 | 82.60 | 99% |
| 1372 | 2021-04-22 19:14:57 | 67.86 | 96% |
| 639 | 2021-04-09 10:53:09 | 70.38 | 97% |