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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 14156 | 2020-07-21 07:09:37 | 113.10 | 98% |
| 13473 | 2019-12-13 09:09:10 | 106.05 | 97% |
| 8589 | 2017-09-15 17:47:16 | 114.26 | 99% |
| 7391 | 2016-05-27 10:30:32 | 100.25 | 92% |