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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 12428 | 2021-12-11 18:17:35 | 76.63 | 96% |
| 11317 | 2021-08-28 02:14:52 | 86.89 | 98% |
| 8686 | 2021-06-01 19:11:55 | 75.88 | 97% |
| 6138 | 2019-10-09 13:43:48 | 75.17 | 98% |
| 4918 | 2017-07-08 01:50:08 | 83.03 | 97% |
| 2926 | 2017-02-10 18:10:03 | 74.38 | 95% |
| 2564 | 2016-08-13 11:52:54 | 70.62 | 96% |
| 1698 | 2016-05-07 12:28:15 | 63.64 | 94% |
| 417 | 2016-03-28 22:43:39 | 63.36 | 94% |