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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 25480 | 2022-05-02 22:33:18 | 105.35 | 98% |
| 22063 | 2019-11-21 21:18:33 | 102.32 | 99% |
| 17241 | 2015-12-17 16:18:43 | 100.65 | 96% |