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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7761 | 2023-02-14 11:55:52 | 75.05 | 96% |
| 2644 | 2021-03-22 02:18:53 | 64.92 | 96% |
| 1673 | 2021-02-20 16:15:41 | 60.61 | 95.7% |