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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 39204 | 2020-01-01 20:29:56 | 65.56 | 99% |
| 34777 | 2019-07-22 13:35:39 | 70.84 | 100% |
| 31654 | 2019-04-30 02:28:52 | 70.24 | 99% |
| 31240 | 2019-04-18 12:09:35 | 69.20 | 99% |
| 25777 | 2018-01-13 14:53:26 | 68.16 | 98% |
| 25582 | 2017-12-24 15:20:59 | 69.70 | 98% |
| 22333 | 2016-11-09 16:05:00 | 63.99 | 99% |
| 21770 | 2016-08-12 16:00:30 | 64.49 | 99% |
| 21556 | 2016-07-01 14:53:30 | 66.09 | 99% |
| 21457 | 2016-06-20 13:10:36 | 71.15 | 99% |