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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 31351 | 2022-02-08 18:56:39 | 146.66 | 98% |
| 28942 | 2021-04-26 08:43:12 | 156.15 | 97% |
| 27432 | 2021-03-16 17:01:27 | 170.57 | 99% |
| 21946 | 2019-12-17 12:22:20 | 172.05 | 99% |
| 9080 | 2018-09-26 13:15:19 | 165.02 | 99% |
| 6618 | 2018-07-16 12:08:13 | 157.88 | 99% |
| 4203 | 2018-05-31 21:33:00 | 158.37 | 98% |
| 1030 | 2018-02-21 05:30:53 | 169.05 | 99% |
| 1029 | 2018-02-21 05:28:23 | 168.02 | 99% |
| 981 | 2018-02-20 23:34:59 | 144.21 | 97% |