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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2908 | 2023-12-10 04:22:42 | 102.75 | 96.3% |
| 2735 | 2023-05-07 16:12:03 | 106.97 | 98% |
| 2221 | 2022-02-28 03:35:50 | 98.63 | 97% |