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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11365 | 2020-07-20 17:42:56 | 86.21 | 96% |
| 8585 | 2019-04-14 12:08:03 | 96.00 | 99% |
| 8026 | 2019-02-25 23:01:36 | 98.69 | 98% |