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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1220 | 2022-02-15 17:49:53 | 62.62 | 97% |
| 1038 | 2020-12-07 07:53:41 | 66.69 | 98% |
| 784 | 2019-06-30 08:07:01 | 55.25 | 96% |