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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 40783 | 2019-05-14 02:35:41 | 165.00 | 99% |
| 40653 | 2019-05-13 06:20:38 | 161.46 | 99% |
| 38890 | 2017-01-16 22:54:56 | 169.65 | 97% |
| 38627 | 2017-01-14 14:33:52 | 148.21 | 93% |
| 37876 | 2017-01-12 13:35:07 | 148.48 | 95% |
| 37719 | 2017-01-10 14:48:02 | 156.04 | 95% |
| 37625 | 2017-01-10 08:37:22 | 155.30 | 94% |
| 37471 | 2016-12-20 15:27:27 | 129.55 | 93% |
| 37368 | 2015-10-28 01:43:36 | 154.14 | 96% |