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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 15240 | 2022-09-20 19:11:23 | 120.89 | 99% |
| 8401 | 2021-02-09 11:00:42 | 102.83 | 97.8% |
| 8107 | 2021-02-04 05:49:36 | 103.85 | 97.3% |
| 2620 | 2017-11-06 02:12:09 | 80.32 | 97% |
| 1430 | 2016-09-08 02:11:46 | 60.91 | 88% |
| 958 | 2016-08-28 15:00:24 | 72.20 | 91% |
| 105 | 2016-05-09 11:26:29 | 55.81 | 89% |