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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8365 | 2022-11-10 22:09:18 | 121.10 | 98% |
| 4124 | 2020-05-15 23:37:30 | 92.93 | 96% |
| 433 | 2020-02-29 19:51:10 | 76.54 | 95% |